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TOMORROW  A  NEW  WORLD 

The  New  Deal  Community  Program 


Published  under  the  direction  of  the  American 
Historical  Association  from  the  income  of  the 
Albert  J.  Beveridge  Memorial  Fund. 

For  their  zeal  and  beneficence  in  creating  this 
fund  the  Association  is  indebted  to  many  citizens 
of  Indiana  who  desired  to  honor  in  this  way  the 
memory  of  a  statesman  and  historian. 


Tomorrow  a  New  World: 

THE  NEW  DEAL  COMMUNITY  PROGRAM 


By  Paul  K.  Conkin 


PUBLISHED  FOR  THE 

American  Historical  Association 
CORNELL  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

ITHACA,  NEW  YORK 


©  1959  by  the  American  Historical  Association 

All  rights  reserved,  including  the  right  to  repro- 
duce this  book,  or  portions  thereof,  in  any  form. 

CORNELL  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
First  published  1959 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA  BY  THE 
VAIL-BALLOU    PRESS,    INC.,    BINGHAMTON,    NEW    YORK 


A  cknowledgments 


AMONG  the  many  people  who  assisted  me  in  the  preparation  of 
this  book,  I  especially  want  to  thank  Dr.  Henry  Lee  Swint  of  Van- 
derbilt  University  for  his  guidance,  criticism,  and  inspiration.  I  also 
received  generous  assistance  from  almost  all  members  of  the  Van- 
derbilt  University  History  Department,  from  the  staffs  of  the  Joint 
Universities  Library  in  Nashville,  Tennessee,  and  the  Southwestern 
Louisiana  Institute  Library  in  Lafayette,  Louisiana,  and  from  Stanley 
Brown  of  the  National  Archives.  The  illustrations  were  possible  be- 
cause of  the  aid  and  permission  of  the  following  journals:  Landscape 
Architecture,  Architectural  Record,  and  Architectural  Forum. 

P.  K.  C. 


Contents 


Introduction 1 

PART  ONE:  Of  Men  and  Their  Ideas 

I    The  Land— Our  Refuge  and  Our  Strength  .         .        .         .11 

II     Bringing  the  Town  to  the  Country 37 

III  Bringing  the  Country  to  the  Town 59 

IV  From  Acorn  to  Oak 73 

PART  TWO:  Of  Bureaus  and  Bureaucrats 

V    The  Subsistence  Homesteads  Program        .         .        .         .93 

VI    The  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  Communities  131 

VII    America  Resettled 146 

VIII    The  Community  as  a  Locale  for  a  New  Society  .         .         .  186 

IX    The  Old  Society  Reasserts  Its  Claims 214 

PART  THREE:  Of  Individual  Communities 

X    Arthurdale — An  Experimental  Community  ....  237 

XI    Jersey  Homesteads — A  Triple  Co-operative  ....  256 
XII     Penderlea  Homesteads — Something  Less  than  a  Rural 

Paradise 277 

XIII  Granger  Homesteads — An  Escape  from  Modernity     .         .  294 

XIV  The  Greenbelt  Towns 305 

In  Retrospect .  326 

Appendix 332 

Bibliographical  Note 338 

Index                                                                                         .  341 


vii 


Illustrations 


1  Penderlea  Homesteads,  North  Carolina       ....  283 

2  Greenbelt,  Maryland  ......          facing  312 

3  Greenhills,  Ohio facing  314 

4  Greendale,  Wisconsin  ......          facing  316 


TOMORROW  A  NEW  WORLD 

The  New  Deal  Community  Program 


Introduction 


THE  depression  that  began  in  1929  was  a  powerful  catalyst  in 
the  modern  American  reaction  against  the  idea  of  individualism  and 
against  the  well-established  institutions  which  gave  that  idea  reality. 
This  reaction  was  well  under  way  by  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, but  did  not  attain  the  proportions  that  it  reached  during  the 
period  of  the  New  Deal.  Never  before  had  it  so  permeated  the 
federal  government  or  led  to  so  many  attempts  at  institutional  reforms. 
The  reaction  was  rooted  in  the  vastly  altered  physical  environment, 
which  is  generally  attributed  to  a  technological,  a  scientific,  or  an 
industrial  revolution,  and  in  a  greatly  altered  intellectual  environment, 
which  was  closely  related  to  scientific  advances  and  which  quite  com- 
pletely destroyed  the  intellectual  foundations  of  nineteenth-century 
rationalism,  liberalism,  and  individualism,  even  as  it  gave  a  philosophic 
basis  for  the  modern  social  sciences.  This  reaction  against  individual- 
ism, or  this  movement  toward  a  new  collectivism,  is  not  at  all  synony- 
mous with  the  New  Deal,  which  reflected  other,  more  traditional  cur- 
rents of  thought;  it  was,  however,  a  major  element  in  the  New  Deal, 
shaping  a  large  part  of  its  program. 

The  most  important  American  political  tradition  was  rooted  in  an 
earlier  reaction — a  reaction  against  political  systems  or  social  systems 
that  suppressed  and  inhibited  the  individual,  against  oppressive 
governments,  powerful  monarchies,  and  the  restrictive  mercantilistic 

1 


2  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

economic  system.  This  earlier  reaction  was  most  defiantly  stated  in 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  It  drew  its  metaphysical  support 
from  the  current  rationalism,  which,  while  not  repudiating  authority 
itself,  used  a  rationalized  and  all  too  perfect  picture  of  the  natural 
world  as  a  new  authority  to  defend  the  individual  against  either 
Church  or  monarch,  the  two  most  firmly  entrenched  threats  to  individ- 
ualism. Although  in  many  ways  a  retreat  from  the  near  anarchy  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  the  Constitution  and  its  first  ten  amend- 
ments implemented  much  of  this  individualistic  reaction  by  its  rigid 
separaton  and  division  of  powers  and  its  guarantees  of  individual 
rights,  despite  the  then  powerful  influence  of  those  disciples  of 
Hamilton  who  still  retained  a  reverence  for  the  stability  and  efficiency 
of  European  governments.  This  stress  on  individualism,  on  equal 
opportunities  for  all,  on  special  privileges  for  none,  on  small,  limited, 
and  localized  (and  therefore  nonoppressive )  governments  was  com- 
plemented, or  perhaps  almost  necessitated,  by  an  open,  inviting,  and 
largely  rural  environment.  Strangely  enough,  the  idea  of  individualism 
found  further  support  in  puritanical  American  Protestantism,  which, 
though  based  on  metaphysical  suppositions  that  directly  opposed  the 
deism  of  the  rationalists,  tended  to  give  the  same  support  to  individual 
aspirations.  Out  of  the  American  Revolution  and  the  revivalism  of  the 
early  nineteenth  century  came  a  political  system  based  on  consistent 
natural  law  and  a  religion  based  on  a  highly  supernatural  God,  yet 
both  joined  hands  to  become,  in  the  minds  of  most  Americans,  coequal 
progenitors  of  a  set  of  values  which,  perhaps  inevitably,  lost  their 
revolutionary  characteristics  and,  even  as  the  environment  changed, 
became  traditional  dogmas  themselves. 

The  individualistic  tradition — nineteenth-century  liberalism — found 
its  most  exact  expression  in  the  Democratic  parties  of  Jefferson  and 
Jackson,  although  heresy  entered  even  Jefferson's  administration. 
This  liberalism  was  countered,  though  never  in  all  its  aspects,  by  the 
parties  in  the  Hamiltonian  traditions,  which  were  nationalistic  at  the 
price  of  state  rights,  which,  whether  explicitly  or  no,  embraced  the 
idea  of  a  qualitative  distinction  between  men,  and  which  were  not 
averse  to  a  strong  central  government  representing  the  privileged 
interests  of  the  country.  The  slavery  controversy  saw  the  individual- 
istic tradition  most  heartily  defended  in  the  South,  but  nevertheless 
weakened  by  the  paradoxical  acceptance  of  slavery.  The  Civil  War 


Introduction  3 

ended  with  the  ascendancy  by  force  of  the  Hamiltonian  tradition  and 
the  reign  of  privilege,  which  was  already  securely  garbed  in  the  verbal 
clothes  of  liberalism  and  individualism.  It  was  opposed  by  the  true 
Jeffersonians,  by  the  "purists,"  who  wanted  a  return  to  equal  op- 
portunities for  all  and  a  limited  government.  The  purists,  most  rigidly 
adhering  to  the  liberal  tradition,  dominated  the  Democratic  party 
during  most  of  the  years  before  Wilson's  administration,  but  were 
reduced  to  a  rather  hapless  minority  by  the  time  of  the  New  Deal. 
With  Theodore  Roosevelt  and  his  New  Nationalism,  the  beginnings 
of  a  new  tradition  found  its  first  important,  though  never  clear-cut, 
political  expression.  It  was  the  modern,  collective  reaction  against 
individualism  and  was  to  grow  rapidly. 

Industrialization,  centralization,  and  urbanization  created  a  new 
society  that  was  alien  to  the  liberal  and  individualistic  tradition. 
Concentrations  of  people,  wealth,  and  power  made  necessary  new 
limitations  on  individual  freedom.  A  new  class,  the  unpropertied 
proletariat,  became  large  enough  to  be  politically  important.  The  very 
existence  of  the  new  society  had  partially  depended  upon  governmental 
privileges — on  corporate  rights,  franchises,  land  grants,  and  tariffs. 
Ideas  such  as  free  enterprise,  private  property,  equality  of  opportunity, 
and  competition  became  almost  meaningless  to  many  men,  even 
though  completely  accepted.  At  the  same  time  those  ideas  became 
crutches  for  the  use  of  a  privileged  few.  The  purists  saw  this  and 
fought  back.  They  wanted  to  return  to  decentralization  in  govern- 
ment and  in  the  economy,  to  equal  opportunities  and  really  free  enter- 
prise, to  pure  competition,  and  to  an  age  long  past.  They  continued 
to  believe,  and  do  yet  today,  that  the  liberal  tradition  remains  valid. 
In  a  polluted,  indistinct  form  the  liberal  tradition  remains  the  domi- 
nant political  ideology  in  America  today. 

Meanwhile  the  problems  of  the  new  environment  were  being  ap- 
proached from  a  new  angle,  first  in  Europe  and  then  in  America, 
where  the  individualistic  tradition  was  most  firmly  entrenched.  The 
new  environment  was  embraced,  not  repudiated.  Industrialism,  urban- 
ization, concentration,  and  centralization  were  not  of  necessity  evils. 
But  for  the  new  environment  new  institutions  were  advocated  in  order 
to  render  the  new  society  more  democratic.  It  had  to  be  controlled 
by  the  masses,  democratized,  collectivized.  Governments  of  privilege 
had  to  be  replaced,  not  by  less  government,  but  by  governments 


4  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

of  all  the  people — functioning,  efficient  governments,  capable  of 
regulating  and  controlling  the  economy  in  such  a  way  as  to  insure 
a  rewarded  honesty  for  all  men.  This  was  a  new  and  disruptive 
political  creed,  ranging  from  Marxian  Socialism  to  its  mildest  form, 
interventionism,  which  predominated  in  the  United  States. 

The  new  political  creed  sprang,  most  obviously,  from  the  problems 
created  by  the  new  environment,  but  it  was  either  partly  rooted  in, 
or  else  created  for  itself,  conducive  philosophies.  Since  the  rational- 
istic and  liberalistic  tradition  was  so  often  warped  and  molded  to  fit 
the  needs  of  the  new  privileged  groups,  especially  the  capitalists,  it 
had  to  be  refuted  and  replaced,  even  though  the  purists  were  some- 
times acknowledged  as  friends  because  of  a  common  enemy.  The 
Newtonian  world  view,  essential  to  the  naturalistic  rationalism, 
swayed  before  evolution  and  practically  succumbed  before  relativity. 
Marx,  with  his  historical  interpretation  and  complete  materialism, 
provided  a  dogmatized  philosophy  that  was  seized  upon  by  many 
collectivists.  But,  in  the  United  States,  the  growth  of  pragmatism  and, 
in  particular,  the  ideas  of  John  Dewey  were  the  most  important  intel- 
lectual supports  for  interventionism  and  a  degree  of  collectivism.  The 
new  philosophy  broke  completely  with  all  past  authorities,  placed 
man  in  a  neutral  universe,  and  gave  him  a  method  or  a  tool,  radical 
empiricism,  for  coping  with  his  environment.  It  was  idealistic  in  its 
view  of  man,  had  a  high  moral  content,  was  extremely  practical,  and 
made  a  religion  of  democracy.  It  thus  had  much  that  could  be  related 
to  traditional  liberalism,  even  as  it  destroyed  the  foundations  of  that 
liberal  tradition.  When  vulgarized  and  widely  disseminated,  few 
noticed  how  thoroughly  it  destroyed  or  undermined  some  of  the 
most  cherished  ideas  in  American  life,  even  including  the  theological 
content  of  Christianity.  Very  important  also,  it  was  relatively  new  and 
untried  in  the  social  realm,  lacked  the  conviction  of  a  less  intellectual- 
ized  and  more  dogmatized  faith,  and  had  unexplored  implications  to 
mankind  and  to  the  whole  structure  of  Western  European  civilization, 
which  had  always  been  based  on  certain  traditions  and  on  some  degree 
of  authority.  This  radical  empiricism,  separated  from  metaphysical 
certainties  and  from  past  authority,  provided  the  framework  for  most 
of  the  modern  social  sciences,  including  all  of,  or  significant  groups 
within,  the  disciplines  of  economics,  sociology,  psychology,  political 
science,  and  anthropology.  It  greatly  influenced  educational  theory, 


Introduction  5 

historiography,  and  jurisprudence.  It  thrived  most  purely  in  the  col- 
leges and  universities,  but  affected  the  lives  of  almost  everyone.  It 
is  extremely  significant  that  such  a  large  number  of  professors,  who 
were  familiar  with  or  openly  espoused  this  pragmatism,  were  active 
in  the  New  Deal. 

At  the  time  of  the  election  of  1932  three  important  political  phi- 
losophies were  vying  for  recognition,  although  most  individuals  rep- 
resented mixtures  of  two  or  three.  One  philosophy  was  that  of  the 
purists,  who  still  believed  in  Jeffersonian  liberalism  but  saw  through 
the  superficial  espousal  of  this  liberalism  by  business  groups.  The 
purists  were  anticapitalistic,  antimonopolistic,  antibureaucratic,  and 
were  for  state  rights,  governmental  economy,  decentralization,  and 
restored  competition.  Another  philosophy  was  that  of  the  modern 
Hamiltonians,  who  welcomed  a  centralized,  functioning  government, 
but  who,  out  of  sincere  conviction  or  from  self-interest,  wanted  the 
government  to  represent  the  "best"  class  of  people,  who  distrusted  the 
"vulgar"  masses,  and  who  wanted  the  government  to  perform  certain 
services  for  the  dominant,  business  class,  believing  that  such  favoritism 
would  eventually  benefit  every  group.  They  were  more  and  more  using 
the  iconography  of  Jeffersonianism  to  win  wide  support  to  their 
viewpoint.  The  other  philosophy  was  advocated  by  those  who  desired 
a  democratization  of  privilege  or  who,  in  other  terms,  wanted  to  use 
Hamiltonian  methods  to  serve  Jeffersonian  purposes.  They  wanted 
more  and  more  socialization  and  more  intervention  on  the  part  of  the 
national  government,  which  meant  less  and  less  individual  freedom 
but  more  economic  security.  Their  ideas  had  received  verbal  sup- 
port from  Theodore  Roosevelt,  had  been  advocated  by  minority 
parties,  were  partially  implemented  by  a  professing  Jeffersonian, 
Woodrow  Wilson,  but  had  never  been  dominant  in  national  politics. 
They  were  anticapitalistic,  but  not  anti-industrial.  Their  views  were 
more  representative  of  labor  and  of  urban  thought  than  of  rural 
philosophies. 

The  New  Deal  was  a  grand  mixture  of  political  faiths  that  managed 
to  come  together  for  a  considerable,  if  inconsistent,  program.  In  his 
earliest  campaign  speeches  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  acclaimed  Jeffer- 
sonian ideas,  even  as  he  advocated  a  precedent-breaking  program  of 
national  planning  and  even  as  he  showed  that  he  was  distinctly 
sympathetic  to  business.  Not  so  charmingly  eclectic  were  many  of 


6  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

his  advisers  and  followers,  ranging  from  Hugh  Johnson,  who  rep- 
resented a  business  point  of  view,  to  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  an  urban 
liberal,  pragmatist,  collectivist,  and  somewhat  of  a  revolutionary. 
Yet  the  early  program  of  the  New  Deal  was  seemingly  an  almost  com- 
plete vindication  of  the  anti-individualistic,  anti-Jeffersonian,  collec- 
tivist approach.  The  emphasis  on  economic  planning,  the  accretion  of 
federal  governmental  powers,  the  declining  importance  of  local  and 
state  governments,  the  privileges  granted  labor  and  farmers,  the 
broad  controls  over  banking,  finance,  and  business,  all  indicated  a 
trend  away  from  Jeffersonianism.  Collectivist  ideas  were  made  more 
explicit  than  ever  before.  Still  there  was  no  complete  victory  for  the 
new  ideas.  Many  of  the  programs  were  enacted  entirely  because  of 
the  desperation  of  the  depression  and  were  later  repudiated.  Many 
were  supported  by  the  old  liberals  as  second  best.  Countertendencies 
were  evident.  Early  planning  measures  were  largely  accepted  by  big 
business  or  by  big  farmers  because  of  hopes  for  control  or  a  desire 
for  economic  gains.  Most  important,  the  ideological  foundations  of 
the  new  policies  were  never  completely  understood  and,  except  for 
darkest  depression  days,  never  broadly  embraced.  Jeffersonian  ideas, 
used  sincerely  or  prostituted  to  self-interest,  still  claimed  the  greatest 
loyalty.  The  older  ideas  were  more  and  more  asserted  by  Congress 
after  1937,  with  both  the  purists  and  the  Hamiltonians  joining  in  an 
alliance  against  collectivism.  Individualism,  while  apparently  slowly 
losing  its  hold  in  the  minds  of  men,  even  as  the  physical  world  denied 
it  any  such  free  expression  as  it  had  in  the  past,  was  still  king  on  a 
well-shaken  but  still-standing  throne. 

One  of  the  smaller  programs  of  the  New  Deal  was  the  construction 
of  approximately  100  communities.  Yet,  from  a  standpoint  of  con- 
flicting ideas,  these  communities  represented  one  of  the  more  sig- 
nificant programs.  They  were  a  focal  point  of  ideological  clashes. 
Although  their  initiation  was  much  influenced  by  a  reactionary,  quasi- 
Jeffersonian  agrarianism,  their  development  reflected  one  of  the  most 
open  breaks  with  the  individualistic  tradition  in  American  history. 
The  very  word  "community"  became  a  synonym  for  a  form  of  collec- 
tivism and  an  antonym  of  individualism.  These  communities  were  to 
be  examples  of  a  new,  organic  society,  with  new  values  and  institu- 
tions. Their  story  is  a  fascinating  adventure  in  idealism  and  disillusion- 
ment. 

Any  account  of  the  New  Deal  communities  is  confusing  because  of 


Introduction  7 

the  many  governmental  agencies  that  were  involved  in  their  develop- 
ment or  management.  In  one  sense  the  story  of  these  communities  is 
a  part  of  many  stories,  for  in  many  cases  they  were  closely  related 
to  other  activities  carried  on  within  the  same  agency  that  fathered  or 
managed  them.  The  term  "community"  is  the  one  unifying  concept, 
but  it  is  a  term  with  considerable  content.  The  first  communities  were 
planned  and  initiated  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in 
the  Department  of  the  Interior.  This  was  the  only  New  Deal  agency 
devoted  exclusively  to  community  building.  Almost  simultaneously 
the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  initiated  a  group  of 
communities  as  one  small  aspect  of  its  relief  program.  In  1935  all  but 
three  of  the  communities  initiated  by  these  two  agencies  were  turned 
over  to  a  newly  created,  independent  agency,  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  which  itself  initiated  several  additional  communities. 
Yet  the  communities  represented  only  about  a  third  of  the  total 
program  of  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Three  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration  communities  were  retained  by 
the  Works  Progress  Administration  until  1939.  In  January,  1937,  the 
Resettlement  Administration  became  a  part  of  the  Department  of 
Agriculture.  In  September,  1937,  it  was  replaced  by  the  Farm  Se- 
curity Administration.  Neither  change  materially  affected  the  com- 
munities. The  final  disposition  of  some  of  the  communities  was  carried 
out  by  the  Farmers'  Home  Administration,  the  Federal  Public  Hous- 
ing Authority,  and  the  Public  Housing  Administration,  but  by  the 
time  they  came  under  these  agencies  the  whole  community  program 
had  been  repudiated. 

These  100  communities,  aside  from  reflecting  a  conscious  break 
with  individualism,  remain  monuments  to  the  reforming  zeal  of  their 
creators.  In  an  age  of  depression,  when  many  believed  that  economic 
progress  had  reached  its  limits,  the  reformers  yet  reflected  a  spirit  of 
optimism  and  high  idealism.  In  an  age  of  cynicism  many  of  the  re- 
formers would  be  considered  naive.  Even  so,  an  oddly  spaced  group 
of  small  white  homes  dotting  a  West  Virginia  hillside  or  an  imagina- 
tively planned  little  city  sitting  in  the  midst  of  a  very  green  belt  of 
Maryland  forests,  despite  all  the  misdirected  or  wasted  effort  that 
went  into  their  creation,  will  remain  vivid  reminders  of  a  time,  not 
so  long  past,  when  Americans  still  could  dream  of  a  better,  more 
perfect  world  and  could  so  believe  in  that  dream  that  they  dared  set 
forth  to  realize  it,  unashamed  of  their  zeal. 


Part  One 


OF  MEN  AND  THEIR  IDEAS 


>t  I 


The  Land— Our  Refuge  and 
Our  Strength 


FOR  many  people  in  the  United  States  of  1932  and  early  1933 
hope  for  an  early  economic  recovery,  overstimulated  by  too  many 
optimistic  predictions,  turned  to  deep  despair.  As  men  desperately 
searched  for  security,  the  tinsel  trappings  of  the  machine  age  seemed 
to  tarnish.  The  glittering  lights  of  the  great  city  now  only  too  often 
bared  men's  aimless,  hopeless  wanderings  in  search  of  employment. 
The  powerful  urban  magnet,  which  had  drawn  millions  of  farmers 
into  its  enticing  fold  during  the  twenties,  had  lost  much  of  its  attrac- 
tion. As  progress  slowed,  many  men  turned  their  eyes  back  to  the  land, 
to  the  old  homestead,  to  security,  to  a  memory.  The  deserted  farms, 
the  mountain  shacks,  the  tenant  cottages  became  repeopled.  Most 
often  the  country-bound  pilgrim  found  his  dream  of  a  pastoral  haven 
to  be  of  the  illusionary  nature  of  most  dreams.  The  grim  shadow 
of  depression  also  darkened  the  rural  scene,  but  in  the  cities  men  still 
spoke  longingly  of  the  land.  In  the  tremendous  back-to-the-land 
sentiment  of  the  depression  the  idea  of  subsistence  farming,  or  of 
subsistence  homesteads,  which  was  as  ancient  as  farming  itself,  be- 
came a  unifying  concept  that  bound  together  a  multitude  of  individuals 
with  widely  divergent  philosophies.  Industrialists,  agriculturalists, 
land  economists,  agrarians,  physical  culturists,  politicians,  economists, 
social  workers,  and  city  planners  all  had  schemes  for  moving  the 

11 


12  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

unemployed  and  discontented  back  to  the  soil.  Many  thought  in 
terms  of  temporary  relief;  some  envisioned  a  return  to  a  simple  past; 
a  few  dreamed  of  a  new  order  for  society.  Out  of  this  confusion  of 
ideas,  if  not  of  tongues,  came  the  first  New  Deal  communities.  A 
few  men  took  a  term,  "subsistence  homesteads,"  and  converted  it  into 
a  physical  reality  and  in  so  doing  led  the  national  government  into 
the  role  of  community  building.  The  reality  could  please  only  a  few  of 
those  who  had  acclaimed  a  term,  or  an  abstract  concept,  but  neverthe- 
less it  was  their  advocacy  of  a  term  that  made  the  reality  possible. 

The  back-to-the-land  movement  was  not  entirely  a  child  of  the  de- 
pression. With  less  urgency  it  had  existed  long  before  the  depression 
and  had  other  justification  than  temporary  relief.  The  United  States 
began  its  history  as  an  agrarian  nation  and,  in  its  folkways,  had  largely 
remained  one.  From  Jefferson  and  his  fellow  democrats,  especially 
John  Taylor  of  Caroline,  the  United  States  inherited  a  philosophy 
of  agrarianism.1  The  virtues  of  agricultural  pursuits,  the  greater  po- 
litical responsibility  of  a  landowning  citizenry,  and  the  dangers  of 
urbanism  and  of  a  propertyless  proletariat  remained  axioms  for  many 
twentieth-century  Americans.  Agrarian  ideas  and  ideals  continued  to 
color  Americans  political  utterances,  though  hardly  in  the  consistent 
form  voiced  by  John  Taylor.  At  times  this  agrarianism  found  partial 
expression  in  the  nostalgic,  romanticized  memories  of  the  many  country 
boys  who  came  to  town  to  live  or  in  the  city  boys  who  read  and 
sang  of  rural  delights.  For  discontented  idealists,  who  could  see  only 
the  ills  and  ugliness  of  a  complex  industrial  society,  the  country  often 
became  an  avenue  of  escape,  an  avenue  to  nature  and  to  simplicity. 
These  expressions  of  what  was  most  often  only  a  nebulous  idea  can 
more  easily  be  studied  in  the  context  of  specific  back-to-the-land  move- 
ments, whether  originating  as  relief  measures  in  times  of  depression 
or  in  a  convinced  agrarian  philosophy. 

It  is  almost  anomalous  to  talk  of  a  back-to-the-land  movement  be- 
fore the  Civil  War,  for  an  overwhelming  majority  of  Americans  lived 
on  the  land.  The  line  between  town  and  country  was  often  far  from 
sharp.  Regardless  of  how  effective  the  frontier  was  as  a  safety  valve, 

1  Thomas  Jefferson,  The  Writings  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  ed.  Andrew  A.  Lipscomb 
(Library  ed.,  20  vols.;  Washington,  1904),  II,  229-230;  John  Taylor,  An  Inquiry 
into  the  Principles  and  Policy  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States  ( Fredericks- 
burg,  Va.,  1814). 


The  Land  13 

it  was  an  ever-present  reality  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  who  strove 
mightily  for  a  more  liberal  land  policy.  Soldiers,  after  each  war,  had 
received  land  as  a  reward  for  their  service.  The  Union  veterans  were 
to  profit  from  the  Homestead  Act  of  1862.2  Yet,  in  the  period  from 
1820  to  1850,  scores  of  communitarian  colonies  were  founded  in 
America.  Most  of  these  represented  a  desire  for  a  peaceful  separation 
from  an  increasingly  complex  and,  to  some,  sinful  world.3  All  were 
concrete  attempts  to  make  real  the  perennial  longing  for  a  Promised 
Land,  "into  which,  like  Moses,  man  will  never  be  permitted  to  enter, 
but  which  gives  rise  to  this  heroic  and  never-ending  adventure  that 
is  none  the  less  pathetic."4  The  largest  number  of  communities 
originated  in  the  socialist  philosophies  of  Robert  Owen  and  Charles 
Fourier,  both  of  whom  reacted  against  the  evils  of  industrialism  and 
of  the  economic  order.  Both  envisioned  a  new  communal  order  to  be 
realized  in  an  agricultural  setting  or  in  a  return  to  the  land.5 

The  other  important  motivation  for  communistic  experiments  was 
religious.  The  Shaker  colonies,  the  Rappite  communities,  the  Amana 
villages,  and  the  Oneida  colony  represented  attempts  to  preserve 
certain  religious  ideas  in  self-contained  communities.  Of  all  the 
religious  communities,  those  founded  by  the  Mormons  were  by  far 
the  most  numerous  and  influential.  The  Mormons  were  the  first 
irrigators  in  the  United  States,  laboriously  developing  by  hand  many 
of  the  techniques  later  used  by  the  Bureau  of  Reclamation.6  Through 
Milburn  L.  Wilson,  the  first  Director  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  in  the  Department  of  the  Interior,  the  Mormon  com- 
munities were  to  influence  directly  the  government-sponsored  sub- 
sistence homesteads.7 

2  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  eds.,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Ap- 
praisal of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942),  pp.  4-5. 

3  R.  W.  Murchie,  Land  Settlement  as  a  Relief  Measure  ( Day  and  Hour  Series 
no.  5,  University  of  Minnesota;  Minneapolis,  1933),  p.  6. 

4  Charles  Gide,  Communist  and  Cooperative  Colonies,  trans,  by  Ernest  F.  Row 
(London,  1930),  p.  18.  See  also  Arthur  E.  Bestor,  Backwoods  Utopias:  The  Sec- 
tarian and  Owenite  Phases  of  Communitarian  Socialism  in  America  ( Philadelphia, 
1950);  Alice  Felt  Tyler,  Freedom's  Ferment:  Phases  of  American  Social  History 
to  1860  (Minneapolis,  1944). 

6  Gide,  Communist  and  Cooperative  Colonies,  pp.  22-23. 
6 Alfred  R.  Golze,  Reclamation  in  the  United  States  (New  York,  1952),  p.  46. 
7 Milburn  L.  Wilson,  Farm  Relief  and  Allotment  Plan  (Day  and  Hour  Series 
no.  2,  University  of  Minnesota;  Minneapolis,  1933),  p.  49. 


14  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

The  Mormon  farm  village,  as  perfected  in  Utah,  represented  a 
large-scale  departure  from  the  isolated  farm  pattern  that  had  char- 
acterized American  rural  development.  Unlike  isolated  farmers,  the 
Mormon  villagers  enjoyed  a  rich  social  life,  could  more  easily  acquire 
such  amenities  as  electricity,  telephones,  and  running  water,  paid  less 
for  their  roads,  automatically  escaped  the  small  one-room  school,  easily 
developed  responsible  government,  and,  as  most  often  argued  by 
exponents  of  subsistence  homesteads,  could  combine  small  manufactur- 
ing and  handicrafts  with  their  farm  work.  Their  village  form  of  settle- 
ment has  been  attributed  to  a  harsh  environment,  to  a  need  for  pro- 
tection against  Indians,  to  a  necessity  of  sharing  irrigation  works,  to 
loneliness,  and  to  a  common  religion.  Back  of  these  practical  factors 
was  the  vision  of  Joseph  Smith,  who  planned  a  City  of  Zion  while  the 
Mormons  were  still  in  Ohio.  It  was  not  only  to  be  the  home  of  the 
Mormons,  but  was  to  be  the  future  dwelling  place  of  the  soon-returning 
Savior.  Possibly  inspired  by  the  biblical  New  Jerusalem,  by  Robert 
Owen's  New  Harmony,  and  by  the  current  rectangular  land  survey, 
his  plan  provided  for  large  ten-acre  blocks,  each  containing  twenty 
families.  In  1847  Salt  Lake  City  was  settled  with  ten-acre  blocks, 
but  with  many  farm  families  receiving  as  much  as  two  whole  blocks. 
Other  Mormon  farm  villages  provided  one-  or  two-acre  subsistence 
plots  for  each  settler.8 

After  the  Civil  War  back-to-the-land  schemes  appeared  with  in- 
creasing frequency.  In  1870  Horace  Greeley  promoted  a  successful 
land  colony  at  what  became  Greeley,  Colorado.  This  colony  utilized 
irrigation  and  became  fairly  successful,  although  it  was  not  back-to- 
the-land  for  the  destitute,  since  the  colonists  had  to  have  money  to 
attain  membership.9  During  the  depression  which  began  in  1873, 
Archbishop  John  Ireland  of  St.  Paul  developed  five  agricultural 
colonies  for  the  Catholic  urban  poor  on  land  purchased  from  the 
railroads  in  Nebraska  and  Minnesota.  Partly  because  of  the  isolated 
farm  method  of  settlement  in  the  United  States,  the  Catholic  Church, 
with  a  scarcity  of  priests,  had  long  advised  Catholic  immigrants  to 
remain  in  the  cities  where  they  could  be  under  the  watchful  care  of  the 

8  Lowry  Nelson,  The  Mormon  Village:  A  Pattern  and  Technique  of  Land  Settle- 
ment (Salt  Lake  City,  1952),  pp.  10-13,  15,  25-38,  96-101;  Golze,  Reclamation 
in  the  United  States,  p.  8. 

9  Golze,  Reclamation  in  the  United  States,  p.  10. 


The  Land  15 

Church.  These  agricultural  colonies  founded  by  Archbishop  Ireland 
marked  the  beginning  of  a  rural  movement  in  the  Catholic  Church, 
partly  caused  by  the  fact  that  city  Catholics  were  believed  not  to  be 
reproducing  themselves.10 

The  much-publicized  Creeley  colony  and  the  work  of  Archbishop 
Ireland  helped  influence  three  congressmen  to  propose  government- 
supported  colonies  for  the  relief  of  the  Eastern  workingman.  In 
October,  1877,  General  Nathaniel  P.  Banks,  Representative  from 
Massachusetts,  introduced  a  bill  which  would  have  created  a  private 
colonizing  corporation  under  government  supervision.  Under  the 
provisions  of  this  bill,  deserving,  unemployed  laborers  were  to  be 
transported  and  settled  in  groups  of  twenty-five  upon  the  public  lands, 
receiving  $400  in  credit.  The  bill,  which  was  never  reported  from 
committee,  provided  for  an  appropriation  of  $10,000,000,  one-half  in 
bonds  and  one-half  in  greenbacks,  the  latter  inflationary  measure  be- 
ing one  of  the  objects  of  the  bill.11  Also  in  October,  1877,  Hendrick 
B.  Wright,  Democrat-Greenbacker  Representative  from  Pennsylvania, 
introduced  an  almost  similar  colonization  bill,  which  was  to  be  ad- 
ministered by  the  Public  Land  Office.12  Wright,  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  spared  no  efforts  to  get  his  bill  en- 
acted. He  secured  the  support  of  Terence  V.  Powderly,  head  of  the 
Knights  of  Labor,  and  solicited  petitions  from  over  20,000  laborers. 
As  a  result  of  his  efforts  he  was  scorned  in  newspapers,  branded  a 
Pennsylvania  communist,  and  forced  to  see  his  bill  defeated  by  a 
vote  of  210  to  23.13 

By  far  the  most  intricate  and  detailed  colonization  bill  ever  intro- 
duced in  the  United  States  Congress  was  sponsored  in  1878  by  General 
Benjamin  F.  Butler,  Representative  from  Massachusetts.  Under  the 
direction  of  the  army,  large  groups  of  settlers  were  to  be  located  on 
the  western  frontier  in  close  proximity  to  army  posts.  Quite  ap- 
propriately for  Butler,  the  bill  excluded  any  settlers  from  any  of  the 

10  Raymond  P.  Witte,  Twenty-five  Years  of  Crusading:  A  History  of  the  National 
Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference  (Des  Moines,  1948),  pp.  1-2. 

11  Albert  V.  House,  Jr.,  "Proposals  of  Government  Aid  to  Agricultural  Settle- 
ment during  the  Depression  of  1873-79,"  Agricultural  History,  XII   (1938),  47; 
United  States,  Congressional  Record,  45th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1877,  p.  169.  (Future 
references  to  the  Congressional  Record  will  be  cited  as  C.R. ) 

™  House,  "Proposals  of  Government  Aid,"  p.  48. 

13  Ibid.,  pp.  52-60;  C.R.,  45th  Cong.,  3d  Sess.,  1879,  p.  771. 


16  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Southern  states.  An  appropriation  of  $420,000,000  in  greenbacks  was 
to  be  used  to  resettle  on  45,000  sections  exactly  333,333  people  from 
the  unemployed  or  insufficiently  paid  laboring  class.14  Butler  argued 
that  this  unemployed  group,  then  a  labor  surplus,  could  become  a 
prosperous  class  of  consumers  and  producers  when  placed  upon  the 
land.  Each  settler  was  to  receive  free  transportation,  $1,250  in  equip- 
ment, and  a  forty-acre  plot  of  land  containing  exactly  six  and  two- 
thirds  acres  of  timber.  The  bill  required  a  meticulous  land  survey 
before  locating  a  colony  and  prescribed  a  detailed  list  of  equipment 
for  each  settler,  including  the  seed  to  plant  and  the  amount  of  lumber 
to  carry  along.  An  army  physician  was  to  be  detailed  to  each  colony. 
Butler's  bill  was  never  reported  from  committee  despite  the  great 
effort  that  went  into  its  preparation.15 

The  demands  for  government-directed  resettlement  of  Eastern 
laboring  classes  were  repeated  in  1885,  a  year  of  heavy  unemployment 
and  of  business  recession.  At  a  special  hearing  on  the  relation  of 
capital  and  labor  conducted  by  the  Senate  Committee  on  Education 
and  Labor,  the  Reverend  Heber  Newton,  a  Christian  Socialist,  stated: 
"As  a  practical  aid  to  the  re-establishing  of  better  relations  between 
labor  and  land,  I  would  suggest  the  organization  by  the  National 
Government  of  colonization.  Colonization  has  always  been  the  natural 
relief  of  overcrowded  centers.  In  this  way  surplus  labor  has  gone  back 
to  the  soil."  16  He  believed  that  the  masses  of  workers  who  most  needed 
colonization  were  also  the  ones  who  most  needed  guidance  and  super- 
vision in  their  resettlement.  For  the  government  to  relieve  the  East 
and  build  up  the  West  by  leading  the  dull  ones  "back  to  the  land"  and 
making  them  self-supporting  was,  to  him,  "a  wise  work  for  the  state." 17 
At  the  same  hearings,  Fred  X.  Heissinger,  a  landscape  and  garden 
engineer  from  New  York  City,  urged  the  states  and  the  national 
government  to  co-operate  in  establishing  colonies  and  "founding  new 
homes  and  towns  in  the  West  and  South"  for  emigrants  and  laborers. 
He  wanted  to  form  a  company  or  an  association  to  find  land,  establish 

14  C.R.,  45th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1878,  pp.  4381-4382. 

15  House,  "Proposals  of  Government  Aid,"  p.  50;  C.R.,  45th  Cong.,  2d  Sess., 
1878,  pp.  4381-4382. 

18  Senate  Committee  on  Education  and  Labor,  Investigation  of  the  Relations 
between  Labor  and  Capital,  48th  Cong.,  1885,  p.  575. 
17  Ibid. 


The  Land  17 

model  farms,  finance  purchases,  secure  clear  deeds,  and  provide  farm 
machinery.18 

Around  1890  a  school  garden  movement  was  started  in  several 
cities,  usually  for  the  purpose  of  promoting  the  physical,  mental,  and 
moral  growth  of  children.  After  the  depression  beginning  in  1893 
this  movement  was  expanded  and  its  leaders  began  to  see  in  it  a 
method  of  permanently  guiding  young  people  back  to  the  country, 
thus  removing  the  surplus  in  the  cities.  One  ever-present  assumption 
of  the  back-to-the-land  movement  was  that  there  were  too  many 
people  in  the  cities  for  complete  employment.  The  school  garden  move- 
ment was  based  on  the  assumption  that  many  city  children  would 
grow  attached  to  agriculture,  as  well  as  learn  its  arts,  and  would 
migrate  to  farms  when  they  became  adults,  relieving  the  labor  surplus 
in  cities.  By  1906  thirty-five  cities  had  school  gardens,  while  many 
normal  schools  introduced  courses  in  gardening.19 

In  the  depression  that  began  in  1893  the  mayor  of  Detroit  originated 
the  idea  of  vacant-lot  cultivation  as  a  relief  measure  for  the  idle  poor. 
As  a  temporary  measure  it  was  tried  in  twelve  or  more  cities  with 
excellent  results.  In  Philadelphia,  in  1896,  it  had  a  new  birth  under 
the  leadership  of  R.  F.  Powell,  who  was  "an  enthusiastic  single- 
taxer."20  By  1904  over  800  people  were  cultivating  gardens  in  Phil- 
adelphia's vacant  lots.  Powell  saw  his  movement  as  a  training  school, 
whose  graduates  would  go  to  the  country  as  farmers.  Eventually, 
Powell  believed,  the  vacant-lot  gardens  would  open  people's  eyes  to 
what  he  believed  to  be  the  root  iniquity  of  the  existing  economic  sys- 
tem, the  unearned  increment.  Under  single-tax  inspiration,  a  similar 
vacant-lot  association  was  developed  in  New  York,  and  one  was 
planned  for  Cincinnati.21 

In  1898,  to  combat  what  it  considered  the  greatest  evil  of  the  day, 
the  drift  of  population  into  the  cities,  the  Salvation  Army  began 
colonizing  the  destitute  of  the  cities.  Utilizing  $150,000  raised  by 
bond  issues,  the  Army  started  farm  colonies  at  Fort  Amity,  Colorado; 
Fort  Romie,  California;  and  Fort  Herrick,  Ohio.  At  Fort  Amity  the 

18  Ibid.,  pp.  1340-1352. 

"Florence  F.  Kelly,  "An  Undertow  to  the  Land:  Successful  Efforts  to  Make 
Possible  a  Flow  of  the  City  Population  Countryward,"  Craftsman,  XI  ( 1906),  308. 

20  R.  F.  Powell,  "Vacant  Lot  Gardens  vs.  Vagrancy,"  Charities,  XIII  (1904),  26. 

21  Kelly,  "An  Undertow  to  the  Land,"  pp.  302-307. 


18  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

fourteen  original  settlers  were  sold  twenty-acre  plots  on  twelve-year 
terms  and  were  lent  money  for  seed  and  livestock  on  five-year  terms. 
Many  settlers  were  so  poor  that  transportation  had  to  be  provided. 
Despite  difficulties  with  poor  soil,  Amity  was  a  success,  containing 
thirty-two  families  by  1906,  each  with  an  average  worth  of  about 
$1,200.  The  colonists  settled  compactly  and  had  the  advantage  of 
social  life  and  mutual  help.  Fort  Romie  was  a  complete  failure  at  first, 
but  after  the  installation  of  irrigation  works  it  became  more  prosperous 
than  Fort  Amity.22  Fort  Herrick  was  smaller  and  was  used  primarily 
as  a  home  for  inebriates.  The  increased  land  values  in  each  settlement 
more  than  protected  the  Salvation  Army's  investment,  although  about 
$50,000  in  development  costs  was  not  charged  to  the  settlers  and  was 
considered  a  loss  by  the  Army.  In  all  cases  the  Army  carefully 
screened  prospective  settlers,  probably  thus  insuring  the  success  of 
their  ventures.23  Commander  Frederick  St.  G.  de  L.  Booth-Tucker 
of  the  United  States  Salvation  Army,  who  had  observed  colonization 
methods  in  other  countries,  believed  scientific  colonization  would  soon 
take  its  place  beside  scientific  agriculture.24 

After  1907  the  back-to-the-land  movement  became  a  sizable  popular 
crusade.  In  that  year  Bolton  Hall,  inspired  in  part  by  the  vacant-lot 
movement,  published  his  very  popular  Three  Acres  and  Liberty.25  The 
next  year  he  followed  with  A  Little  Land  and  a  Living.26  Both  books 
described  intensive  farming  on  small  plots,  as  well  as  advertised  the 
advantages  of  rural  life.  They  were  also  handbooks  on  subsistence 
farming,  giving  needed  practical  information.  These  books  were  fol- 
lowed by  many  magazine  articles  giving  advice  to  landward-bound 
cityfolk.  Country  Life  published  twenty-four  such  articles  from  1910 
to  1912  under  the  general  title  "Cutting  Loose  from  the  City."  Typical 
of  the  articles  are  the  following  descriptive  titles:  "How  Two  Young 
People — One  an  Invalid — Found  Health  and  a  Competence  by  Ex- 

22  Ibid.,  pp.  299-300. 

23  Henry  Rider  Haggard,  The  Poor  and  the  Land,  Being  a  Report  on  the  Salva- 
tion Army  Colonies  in  the  United  States  and  at  Hadleigh,  England,  with  a  Scheme 
of  National  Land  Settlement  and  an  Introduction  (London,  1905),  pp.  vii,  116- 
117;  Kelly,  "An  Undertow  to  the  Land,"  pp.  300-302. 

24  Frederick  St.  G.  de  L.  Booth-Tucker,  "Farm  Colonies  of  the  Salvation  Army," 
in  U.S.  Department  of  Commerce  and  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor,  Bulletin,  XL VIII 
(1903),  1001-1003. 

25  Bolton  Hall,  Three  Acres  and  Liberty  (London,  1907). 

26  Bolton  HaU,  A  Little  Land  and  a  Living  (New  York,  1908). 


The  Land  19 

changing  City  Life  for  a  Little  One-acre  Home  in  the  Country  (near 
the  Maryland  line)";  'How  One  Woman,  Without  Family  or  Means, 
and  Without  any  Previous  Agricultural  Experience,  Has  Laid  the 
Foundation  for  an  Old  Age  of  Peace  and  Plenty,  and  at  the  Same 
Time  Added  a  Present  Zest  to  Life,  by  Getting  'Back  to  the  Land' "; 
"How  One  Young  Couple,  Without  Capital,  Have  Really  Cut  Loose 
and  Are  Enjoying  Life  While  They  Pay  for  Their  Maine  Farm  on  the 
Installment  Plan,  Making  Use  of  Their  Former  Professions  to  Help 
Out  Occasionally  in  Lieu  of  a  Bank  Account";  "How  a  Married  Couple, 
Both  in  Ill-Health,  with  Three  Children,  and  in  Debt,  Have  Made 
Good  on  a  Mississippi  Farm.  Plenty  of  Similar  Openings  in  the 
South."  27 

The  most  interesting  result  of  the  popularization  of  small,  intensive 
farms  was  the  Little  Landers  colonies  in  California.  William  E. 
Smythe,  a  publisher  and  an  expert  on  irrigation,  adopted  the  motto 
"A  little  land  and  a  living"  and  organized  a  group  of  families  to  settle 
upon  small  holdings  of  one  to  five  acres.28  His  idea  was  that  by  con- 
centrating on  such  farm  industries  as  poultry  raising,  by  growing 
all  needed  food,  and  by  a  system  of  co-operation,  a  group  of  families 
could  live  well  on  their  small  acreages  and,  at  the  same  time,  achieve 
a  most  excellent  social  life.  The  first  group,  which  was  organized  in 
1908,  established  their  colony  on  550  acres  at  San  Ysidro,  two  miles 
from  the  Mexican  border  and  near  San  Diego.  The  land  was  controlled 
by  Little  Landers,  Incorporated.  On  rather  poor  soil,  the  settlers  ex- 
pected a  moderate  living,  security,  and  freedom.  Co-operation  was 
soon  realized  and  a  town-meeting  type  of  government  was  estab- 
lished.29 The  creed  of  Smythe  and  the  Little  Landers  was  as  follows: 

THE    HOPE    OF    THE    LITTLE    LANDERS 

That  individual  independence  shall  be  achieved  by  millions  of  men  and 
women,  walking  in  the  sunshine  without  fear  of  want. 

27  For  the  complete  list  of  articles   see  L.   O.   Bercaw,  A.   M.    Hannay,   and 
E.   M.   Colvin,  Bibliography  on  Land   Settlement,  with  Particular  Reference  to 
Small  Holdings  and  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics, 
Department  of  Agriculture,  Miscellaneous  Publication  no.  172;  Washington,  1934), 
pp.  36-37. 

28  "Land  Settlement  in  California,5*  Transactions  of  the  Commonwealth  Club 
of  California,  XI  (1916),  425-426. 

29  Henry  S.  Anderson,  "The  Little  Landers'  Land  Colonies:  A  Unique  Agricul- 
tural Experiment  in  California,"  Agricultural  History,  V  (1931),  140-142. 


20  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

That  in  response  to  the  loving  labor  of  their  hands,  the  earth  shall  answer 
their  prayer:  "Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 

That  they  and  their  children  shall  be  proprietors  rather  than  tenants, 
working  not  for  others  but  for  themselves. 

That  theirs  shall  be  the  life  of  the  open  —  the  open  sky  and  the  open  heart 
—  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  flowers,  more  fragrant  with  the  spirit  of  fel- 
lowship which  makes  the  good  of  one  the  concern  of  all,  and  raises  the  in- 
dividual by  raising  the  mass.30 

San  Ysidro  failed  to  vindicate  Smythe's  faith  or  to  live  up  to  the 
Little  Landers  creed.  Plagued  by  dissension,  a  disastrous  flood,  and 
plots  too  small  for  economic  security,  the  Little  Landers  colony  was 
dissolved  in  1918,  although  San  Ysidro  later  became  a  prosperous 
town.  Two  similar  Little  Landers  colonies,  Los  Terrenitos  and  Hay- 
ward  Heath,  likewise  failed.  In  February,  1919,  Smythe  gave  up  his 
promotional  work  with  the  Little  Landers  and  joined  Franklin  K. 
Lane,  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  to  help  Lane  promote  a  plan  to  extend 
the  reclamation  movement  to  the  whole  United  States  and  to  provide 
farm  colonies  for  returning  servicemen.31 

For  the  purpose  of  placing  the  poor  of  the  cities  upon  the  land, 
the  National  Forward  to  the  Land  League  was  founded  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Haviland  H.  Lund  in  1911.  The  Lunds  believed  that  privately 
directed  colonization  on  the  land  was  necessary  to  make  the  country 
immune  to  "the  red  virus."  The  National  Forward  to  the  Land  League 
was  an  incorporated,  nonprofit  agency  to  secure  private  financial  sup- 
port to  settle,  in  groups  of  fifty,  the  urban  poor  in  agricultural  colonies. 
The  League  solicited  loans  from  businessmen,  distributed  government 
information  pamphlets  to  interested  colonizers,  sponsored  lectures 
in  New  York  City  by  members  of  the  College  of  Agriculture,  Cornell 
University,  developed  plans  for  garden  cities  and  part-time  farming 
colonies  for  industrial  workers,  asked  for  and  allegedly  received  sup- 
port from  such  influential  congressmen  as  Warren  G.  Harding,  and 
secured  the  services  of  Harvard's  political  economist,  Thomas  Nixon 
Carver,  as  director  of  colonization,  but  never  placed  a  single  colonist 
upon  the  land.32 


90  Ibid.,  p.  142.  ^Ibid.,  pp.  142-150. 

82  Haviland  H.  Lund,  "Redistribution  of  the  Labor  Now  Employed  in  Pro- 
ducing War  Supplies,"  American  Economic  Review,  Supplement  to  vol.  VII  (  1917), 
239-240;  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  H.R.  11055,  H.R.  11056,  and 
H.R.  12097,  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unemployment,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1932, 
pp.  75,  76,  83-84. 


The  Land  21 

The  plans  of  the  National  Forward  to  the  Land  League  were 
ambitious.  Through  borrowed  money  the  League  was  to  be  able  to 
furnish  the  inexperienced  city  colonists  with  finished  houses;  free 
medical  insurance;  co-operatives  for  credit,  production,  and  marketing; 
an  expert  agricultural  adviser;  and  fully  equipped  farms.  The  colonists 
were  to  divide  their  time  between  their  farms  and  nearby  factories, 
which  were  to  utilize  the  by-products  of  the  farms.  Lund  blamed  the 
failure  of  his  League  on  vested  real  estate  interests  and  on  socialists 
within  the  government  who  preferred  bureacratic  rather  than  private 
colonies.33  Mrs.  Lund  later,  in  a  rambling  and  bitter  denunciation, 
described  the  League's  unsuccessful  attempt  to  get  a  co-ordinating 
bureau  in  the  Department  of  Labor  during  the  Wilson  administration. 
She  attributed  the  lack  of  success  to  Frederic  Howe,  Commissioner  of 
Immigration,  and  Louis  Post,  Assistant  Secretary  of  Labor,  both  of 
whom  wanted  government-directed  colonization  and  who,  in  Mrs. 
Lund's  opinion,  were  socialists  and  single-taxers.  Mrs.  Lund  described 
the  Farm  Loan  Bank,  the  Farm  Board,  and  the  Reclamation  Service 
as  communistic.  She  also  bore  a  particular  hatred  for  certain  "schem- 
ing" international  financiers.34  Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Lund  claimed  credit 
for  two  of  the  proposed  soldier  settlement  bills  following  World  War  I 
and  was  a  lobbyist  for  subsistence  homesteads  in  1932.35 

From  1916  through  1922  there  was  always  at  least  one  colonization 
or  soldier  settlement  bill  before  Congress.  Since  these  bills  represented 
much  more  than  a  back-to-the-land  movement,  they  will  receive  de- 
tailed attention  in  a  later  chapter.  The  tremendous  ovation  awarded 
these  proposed  colonization  schemes,  particularly  those  applying 
to  soldiers,  was  compounded  of  many  elements — of  the  idealism  of 
the  war  to  end  wars;  of  the  enthusiasm  for  doing  the  best  for  the  re- 
turning servicemen;  of  the  rampant  nationalism  inherent  in  any  plan 
to  reclaim  thousands  of  worthless  acres,  in  a  sense  creating  a  larger, 
wealthier  nation;  of  the  humanitarianism  implicit  in  the  oft-repeated 
belief  that  only  American  agriculture  could  feed  a  starving,  war-torn 
Europe;  and  of  the  glowing  confidence  in  the  future  of  agriculture, 
which,  just  after  the  war,  was  reaping  the  highest  reward  in  history. 

33  Lund,  "Redistribution,"  pp.  242,  244;  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings 
on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unemployment,  pp.  76,  84. 

34  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unemploy- 
ment, pp.  75,  78-79,  81-82. 

35  Ibid.,  p.  77. 


22  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

But  by  no  means  least,  this  popular  support  reflected  the  strong  feel- 
ing among  perhaps  a  majority  of  the  population  that,  for  soldiers  or 
for  anyone,  an  independent  farm  home  was  the  greatest  possible 
blessing,  contributing  most  to  the  wealth  of  the  individual  and  to  the 
strength,  stability,  and  safety  of  the  nation.  William  E.  Smythe,  of 
Little  Landers  fame,  jubilantly  predicted  that  "no  part  of  the  nation, 
and  scarcely  a  single  state,  will  fail  to  feel  the  new  impulse  toward 
the  soil."  36 

This  impulse  toward  the  soil  resulted  in  one  notable  private  back- 
to-the-land  venture  and  publicity  stunt  combined.  Inspired  by  the 
proposed  government  colonization  schemes,  William  D.  Scott,  a  Brook- 
lyn sales  manager,  issued  a  prospectus  in  1921  inviting  prospective 
back-to-the-landers  in  New  York  to  join  him  in  establishing  a  farm 
colony  in  far-off  Idaho.  Scott  received  wide  support  for  his  plan, 
purchased  5,120  acres  of  land,  sight  unseen,  near  Buhl,  Idaho,  met 
with  delegations  of  citizens  from  Idaho,  and  enlisted  colonists  for  the 
great  migration.  To  attract  attention  to  the  venture,  Scott  decided  that 
the  group  should  move  to  Idaho  by  automobile — no  small  undertaking 
in  1921.  Only  twenty-eight  eager  colonists  were  able  to  pay  the  $3,000 
required  for  an  automobile,  equipment,  and  the  first  payment  on 
their  land.  This  small  caravan  of  pioneers,  modern  style,  left  New 
York  amidst  raving  newspaper  accounts.  It  was  to  be  a  trip  of  joy, 
with  sports,  fishing,  theater  trips,  magical  Yellowstone  Park,  and  the 
acclamation  granted  only  to  heroes.  Mayors  spoke,  maidens  kissed, 
farmers  stared  in  wonder,  all  to  be  exceeded  by  the  official  welcome 
Idaho  heaped  upon  its  newest  pioneers.  The  celebration  over,  the 
caravan  left  Buhl  for  their  new  colony,  which  they  had  already 
named  Roseworth.  They  barely  were  able  to  cross  Salmon  Falls  River 
Pass,  were  now  alone  in  desolate  sagebrush,  and  found  only  one 
settler  and  a  few  shacks  at  Roseworth.  The  soil  ( really  very  good )  was 
coated  with  sand.  The  disillusionment  was  complete.  All  but  four 
of  the  colonists  sold  their  equipment  and  returned  home.37 

The  Roseworth  debacle  epitomized  the  end  of  an  era  of  popular 
back-to-the-land  sentiment,  which  had  begun  as  far  back  as  the 

38  William  E.  Smythe,  "New  Homestead  Policy  for  America,"  Review  of  Re- 
views, LXV  (1922),  293. 

37  Albert  Shaw,  "From  New  York  to  Idaho,"  Review  of  Reviews,  LXIV  (1921), 
179-180;  George  F.  Stratton,  "Sundown  at  Roseworth,"  Country  Gentleman, 
LXXXVIII  (Nov.  3,  1923),  pp.  7,  32,  34. 


The  Land  23 

depression  of  1893.  Then,  in  times  of  industrial  depression,  the 
movement  had  been  one  of  relief.  Later,  with  the  general  recovery, 
it  had  become  one  of  sentiment  and  of  small,  intensive  farming 
enterprises.  With  the  European  war  came  a  new  promise  of  future 
agricultural  prosperity  and  with  this  many  colonization  schemes,  pub- 
lic and  private.  But  even  as  the  pioneers  left  New  York  for  Roseworth 
in  1921,  a  changed  outlook  faced  American  agriculture.  The  high 
postwar  prices,  which  had  been  so  temporary  as  to  seem  illusionary, 
were  followed  by  falling  prices  and  an  era  of  agricultural  depression. 
Meanwhile,  industry,  if  not  booming,  was  prosperous.  No  such  im- 
balance between  agriculture  and  industry  had  existed  since  the  two 
decades  which  preceded  the  depression  of  1893.  Sentimentally,  the 
farm  might  have  retained  its  halo  of  desirability;  economically,  it  was 
the  problem  child  of  the  nation.  A  migration  to  the  cities  that  had  been 
progressing  long  before  1920,  in  the  face  of  the  dire  predictions  of 
the  agrarians,  became  a  rushing  tide  in  the  twenties.  Always  there  is 
a  great  amount  of  migration  both  ways,  but  from  1921  until  1929  the 
net  gain  toward  the  cities  varied  from  approximately  400,000  to 
1,137,000  annually.38  Thus,  back-to-the-land  lost  all  but  a  sentimental 
value,  while  the  problem  of  what  to  do  with  those  on  the  land  became 
a  major  concern  of  the  decade.  To  this  problem  an  industrialist  not 
only  proposed  an  answer  but  attempted  a  cure.  Moreover,  in  this 
decade  of  agricultural  gloom,  a  number  of  individuals  and  groups 
developed  the  most  complete  and  formal  agrarian  philosophy  that 
had  appeared  in  America  since  Jefferson's  day. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  Henry  Ford  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  men  in  America  in  the  twenties.  When  he  announced  a  new 
scheme  for  both  industry  and  agriculture,  Americans  listened.  Nat- 
urally Ford  found  the  key  to  a  glorious  new  era  within  the  techniques 
and  policies  that  he  had  applied  to  the  Ford  Motor  Company.  To  Ford, 
industry  had  serious  problems,  such  as  poor  housing,  slums,  and 
temporary  unemployment.  These  evils  sprang  from  industrial  concen- 
tration and  the  profit  motive.  They  could  be  solved,  he  believed,  by 
the  decentralization  of  industry  and  by  the  wage  motive,  which  meant 
high  wages  and  a  greater  demand  for  the  manufacturer's  product.39 

^Pascal  K.  Whelpton,  "The  Extent,  Character,  and  Future  of  the  New  Land- 
ward Movement,"  Journal  of  Farm  Economics,  XV  ( 1933 ) ,  59. 

39  Henry  Ford,  in  collaboration  with  Samuel  Crowther,  Today  and  Tomorrow 
(Garden  City,  N.Y.,  1926),  pp.  135-149. 


24  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

In  decentralizing  industry,  Ford  believed  that  he  could  bring  salva- 
tion to  the  farmer,  who  wanted  the  same  money  and  luxuries  as  the 
industrial  worker.  The  family  farm  was  an  antiquated  island  of  small 
business  in  a  world  of  big  business.  The  farmer  was  becoming  a  part- 
time  worker,  especially  if  he  were  able  to  afford  the  new  farm  ma- 
chinery. In  the  future  the  work  of  the  average  farm  would  take  about 
one  month  out  of  the  year.  The  rest  of  the  time  the  farmer  would  work 
in  Ford's  decentralized  factories.  This  grand  synthesis  of  agriculture 
and  industry  was,  to  Ford,  the  way  of  the  future.  "Industry  and  agri- 
culture have  been  considered  as  separate  and  distinct  branches  of 
activity.  Actually  they  fit  into  each  other  very  neatly.  But  first  we  have 
to  rid  ourselves  of  many  traditions."  40 

One  of  the  goddesses  of  the  twenties  was  prosperity,  and  the 
harmonious  songs  in  her  praise  swelled  throughout  the  land.  All  men 
were  not  prosperous;  with  all  her  largess,  prosperity  had  passed  by 
many  without  heeding  their  pleading  eyes.  But  still  they  worshiped 
her.  Farmers,  even  though  they  choked  on  the  chorus,  sang  her  praises 
as  never  before.  The  tragedy  of  their  increasing  economic  ills  was 
heightened  by  the  devoutness  of  their  worship.  Perhaps  tomorrow 
even  they  would  find  favor  in  her  eyes,  and  find  two  cars  in  their 
garages.  But  toward  the  end  of  the  decade  the  harmony  of  this 
worshipful  praise  was  shattered  by  the  most  shocking  discord,  by 
heresy  no  less.  In  highly  literate  blasphemy  the  great  goddess  pros- 
perity was  vilified.  From  some  Catholic  agrarians  in  the  Midwest, 
from  a  few  heretical  Southerners  in  Nashville,  even  from  the  midst  of 
the  holy  city  of  prosperity,  New  York,  came  a  clarion  call  for  men 
to  return  to  their  old  gods  and  old  ways.  Who  were  these  men  speak- 
ing so?  Was  Jefferson  back  on  earth,  or  was  it  St.  Thomas  speaking? 
America  continued  her  song  of  praise,  but  many  were  visibly  an- 
noyed, some  few  disturbed.  Many  laughed  at  these  quaint  eccentrics 
and  called  them  escapists  or  incurable  romantics,  while  a  few  heralded 
them  as  prophets.  In  fervent  phrases  these  fundamental  Jeffersonians, 
these  reactionaries,  these  doctrinaire  agrarians,  or  (as  they  sometimes 
called  themselves)  these  distributists  continued  their  plea  for  men 
to  recognize  the  insufficiency  of  their  newly  discovered  idols. 

The  agrarian  movement  of  the  late  twenties  can  be  traced  back  to 
a  small  manifesto  issued  in  1911  by  Hilaire  Belloc,  an  English  literary 

"Ibid.,  p.  218,  see  also  pp.  210-218. 


The  Land  25 

figure  and  prominent  Catholic.  He  romantically  praised  the  Catholic, 
agrarian  society  of  the  late  Middle  Ages,  when  the  majority  of  men 
possessed,  or  had  access  to,  wealth-producing  property,  and  ve- 
hemently criticized  the  modern,  Protestant,  industrial,  capitalist  society 
in  which  only  a  few  men  owned  real  property.  Belloc,  as  a  moralist, 
advocated  a  return  to  a  stable  culture  based  on  a  wide  distribution  of 
property,  particularly  land.41  Belloc,  who  used  the  word  "distributist" 
to  describe  his  economic  platform,  inspired  a  back-to-the-land  move- 
ment in  Great  Britain  and  influenced  an  agrarian,  distributist  school 
among  American  Catholics.  The  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference, 
which  was  organized  in  1923,  advocated  an  agrarianism  very  similar 
to  that  of  Belloc's,  although  they  found  their  ideal  agrarian  society 
in  Jefferson's  America  and  not  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Catholic  Rural 
Life  Conference  advocated  property  as  a  right  and  a  responsibility, 
denounced  farm  tenancy,  advocated  subsistence  farming,  and,  in  the 
depression,  attempted  to  guide  the  back-to-the-land  movement.42 
Father  Luigi  Ligutti,  a  leading  member  of  the  conference,  sponsored 
and  organized  one  of  the  first  government-financed  subsistence  home- 
steads communities,  Granger  Homesteads  in  Iowa. 

The  most  heretical  protest  against  contemporary  American  life 
came  from  the  South,  where  twelve  academicians  at  Vanderbilt 
University  took  a  stand  in  behalf  of  their  ideal  agrarian  society,  the 
Old  South.  A  few  words  can  hardly  summarize  the  thoroughness  with 
which  they  repudiated  all  the  goddesses  of  modernity — prosperity  and 
her  trappings,  which,  in  their  hostile  view,  became  cheap  and  vulgar; 
industrialism  and  urbanism,  which  had  engulfed  and  enslaved  the 
North  and  now  threatened  the  South  with  its  meaningless  technology 
and  coarse  materialism;  corporate  wealth  and  government  bureau- 
cracy, both  of  which  demoralized  and  enslaved  the  individual  by 
depriving  him  of  the  morally  beneficial  control  of  his  own  economic 
destiny;  and  progress,  with  her  offspring  of  liberalism,  progressivism, 
pragmatism,  and  relativism  that  wooed  men  away  from  an  older, 
established,  quality-conscious,  formalized  society  in  which  art,  ag- 
riculture, manners,  authority,  simplicity,  tradition,  breeding,  leisure, 

41Hilaire  Belloc,  The  Servile  State  (1st  American  ed.;  New  York,  1946),  pp. 
52-53,  110-123. 

42Witte,  Twenty-five  Years  of  Crusading,  pp.  60-61;  National  Catholic  Rural 
Life  Conference,  Manifesto  on  Rural  Life  (Milwaukee,  1939),  pp.  3,  41,  and 
Rural  Life  Objectives,  I  (St.  Paul,  1935),  21,  34-35. 


26  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

religion,  romanticism,  ritual,  regionalism,  and  localized  institutions 
were  respected.  Their  emotionally  tinged  picture  of  the  Old  South, 
of  a  delightful,  self-assured,  relaxed  culture,  was  sharply  and,  in  their 
skilled  literary  phrases,  brilliantly  contrasted  with  the  fast  tempo  of 
modern  life,  with  its  ceaseless  hard  work,  gross  materialism,  and 
vulgar  capitalistic  rationale.  Although  mainly  an  academic  protest,  the 
Southern  agrarians  were  aware  of  Southern  problems  and  advocated 
a  redistribution  of  property  and  a  return  to  subsistence  farming. 
Enthroning  Jefferson  as  their  political  and  economic  deity,  they  argued 
that  only  men  with  the  actual  control  of  the  means  of  production, 
preferably  farm  land,  could  be  independent  of  other  men  and,  hence, 
politically  free.43 

One  of  the  most  influential  agrarians  or  distributists  was  Ralph 
Borsodi,  who  in  1920  personally  started  subsistence  farming  on  a  small 
homestead  near  New  York  City.  By  utilizing  labor-saving  tools  and  by 
growing  and  processing  a  phenomenal  number  of  foods,  Borsodi 
achieved  economic  independence  and  became  the  supreme  exemplar 
of  self-sufBcient  farming  and  successful  back-to-the-land.  Borsodi, 
who  also  favored  the  single  tax,  aesthetically  revolted  against  the 
ugliness  of  the  city  and  found  his  subsistence  homestead  an  avenue 
to  freedom  and  independence,  but  not  to  leisure.  For  quality-minded, 
freedom-seeking  individuals,  Borsodi  proposed  subsistence  home- 
steads as  an  escape,  as  little  islands  "of  intelligence  and  beauty 
amidst  the  chaotic  seas  of  human  stupidity  and  ugliness."44  In  the 
depression  Borsodi  found  several  to  follow  him  back  to  the  land. 
When  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  established, 
Borsodi  was  already  guiding  the  development  of  a  homestead  colony 
in  Dayton,  Ohio.  The  first  subsistence  homesteads  loan  went  to  this 
project,  although  Borsodi,  who  had  hailed  the  subsistence  homesteads 
legislation  as  the  beginning  of  a  new,  distributive  era,  soon  became 
disgusted  with  government  control.45 

^Twelve  Southerners,  I'll  Take  My  Stand  (New  York,  1930),  pp.  12,  51-53, 
152,  244;  Patrick  F.  Quinn,  "Agrarianism  and  the  Jeffersonian  Philosophy,"  Re- 
view of  Politics,  II  (1940),  88;  Frank  L.  Owsley,  "The  Pillars  of  Agrarianism," 
American  Review,  IV  (1934-1935),  529-574. 

44  Ralph  Borsodi,  This  Ugly  Civilization  (New  York,  1929),  p.  221. 

45  Ralph  Borsodi,  Flight  from  the  City  (New  York,  1933),  pp.  xix-xxii,  "Sub- 
sistence Homesteads:   President  Roosevelt's  New  Land  and  Population  Policy," 
Survey  Graphic,  XXIII  (1934),  11-14,  and  "Democracy,  Plutocracy,  Bureaucracy," 
Free  America,  III  (Aug.,  1939),  10-12. 


The  Land  27 

Another  influential  distributist  was  Herbert  Agar,  a  historian  and 
newspaper  writer  who,  while  in  England  as  a  reporter,  received  his 
agrarian  inspiration  directly  from  Belloc  and  other  English  dis- 
tributists.  Back  in  America,  he  became  an  effective  advocate  of  a 
redistribution  of  property  and  a  decentralization  of  industry.  Agar 
looked  into  history  for  his  ideal  but,  unlike  the  other  agrarians,  did 
not  color  his  history  with  a  sectional  or  religious  bias.  In  two  excellent 
historical  interpretations,  The  Peoples  Choice  and  Pursuit  of  Hap- 
piness, Agar  passionately  defended  the  Jeffersonian  philosophy  of 
equal  rights  for  all  and  special  privileges  for  none,  but  pointed  out 
how  the  Jeffersonian  ideal  had  found  less  and  less  expression  in 
American  life.46  Agar  recognized  the  kinship  between  the  English 
distributists,  the  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference,  the  Southern 
agrarians,  and  Borsodi.  Partly  through  his  efforts,  all  the  agrarian 
groups  participated  in  a  meeting  in  Nashville  in  1936,  jointly  published 
a  new  book,  Who  Owns  America?47  and  launched  an  agrarian,  dis- 
tributist magazine,  Free  America,  which  consistently  advocated  de- 
centralization, subsistence  homesteads,  and  co-operatives.48 

In  the  twenties  Henry  Ford  expressed  the  prevailing  sentiment 
when  he  said  that  farming,  in  the  old  subsistence  sense,  was  an 
antiquated  way  of  life,  since  everyone  had  moved  into  a  money  tradi- 
tion. Yet  the  agrarians  had  pleaded  the  sufficiency  and  superiority 
of  the  traditional  farm  and  had  hurled  vitriolic  insults  at  the  money 
tradition.  After  1929,  as  the  depression  deepened  and  hopes  of  quick 
recovery  faded,  the  agrarians  apparently  were  vindicated,  for  pros- 
perity had  certainly  been  fickle.  As  industry  failed,  men,  driven  by 
necessity,  turned  back  to  the  farm,  for  subsistence  and  not  for  money. 
The  exact  size  of  the  back-to-the-land  movement  from  1930  to  1934 
can  only  be  estimated,  although  it  was  certainly  exaggerated  by  the 
newspaper  accounts  which  portrayed  a  veritable  flood  of  population 
moving  to  the  country.49  One  factor  that  made  the  exodus  seem  so 
large  was  the  diminishing  number  of  farmers  flocking  to  the  city.  In 
one  estimate,  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  indicated  that,  in 
1930,  for  the  first  time,  there  were  more  migrations  to  the  country  than 

48  Herbert  Agar,  Pursuit  of  Happiness  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1938),  and  The 
People's  Choice  (Boston,  1933). 

47  Herbert  Agar  and  Allen  Tate,  eds.,  Who  Owns  America?  (Boston,  1936). 

"Editorial,  Free  America,  I  (Jan.,  1937),  4. 

49Bercaw,  Hannay,  and  Colvin,  Bibliography  on  Land  Settlement,  pp.  69-104. 


28  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

to  the  city.  The  net  gain  of  the  country,  according  to  this  estimate,  was 
17,000  in  1930,  214,000  in  1931,  and  533,000  in  1932,  after  which 
the  trend  reverted  back  to  normal,  with  the  city  gaming  277,000  in 
1933.  A  later  estimate  revealed  only  one  year,  1932,  in  which  the 
countryward  migration  was  the  larger,  and  that  by  only  266,000.50 
Regardless  of  the  number  involved,  never  before  in  the  history  of 
the  United  States  had  back-to-the-land  been  so  popular,  so  frequently 
discussed,  and  so  susceptible  to  crackpot  schemes.  Necessarily,  there 
was  pathos,  humor,  and  romanticism  in  the  movement.  One  critical 
writer  described  the  movement:  "The  march  back  home  moves  to  a 
various  inner  music,  as  profound  and  cleansing  as  the  psalm  begin- 
ning, 'The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd/  and  as  noisily  self-deceptive  as  a 
mammy  song."51  The  logic  of  the  movement  was  often  very  simple: 
"Here  are  idle  men;  there  are  vacant  acres;  get  them  together  and 
Mother  Earth  and  Mother  Nature  will  wipe  all  tears  from  their  eyes 
and  they  shall  be  happy  and  satisfied  in  a  primitive  acadian  sim- 
plicity."52  A  realtor's  advertisement  in  the  Wall  Street  Journal  stated: 
"Buy  an  abandoned  farm  and  live  on  trout  and  applejack  until  the 
upturn."  53  Henry  Ford,  as  his  contribution  to  the  public  welfare,  put 
out  a  series  of  advertisements  which  proclaimed:  "The  Land!  That  is 
where  our  roots  are."  54  One  writer  announced  that  "more  log  cabins 
are  being  built  in  the  United  States  than  at  any  time  since  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  a  rail-splitter."  55  Some  of  the  back-to-the-land  movement 
merely  represented  farm  boys  returning  to  their  fathers'  farms,  or 
farm  laborers  who  had  drifted  to  town  and  now  drifted  back  to  the 
farm,  or  Negroes  who  had  come  North  and  now  were  returning  to  the 
South.  Others,  and  these  were  more  pathetic,  were  returning  to  moun- 
tain shacks  or  formerly  abandoned  submarginal  farms  barely  to  sub- 
sist on  meager  diets.  Even  cityfolk  without  farming  experience  were 
moving  to  suburban  subsistence  farms  or,  tragically  deceived,  were 
buying  deserted,  unproductive  farms  with  their  last  savings.  Many 

50  Edmund  de  S.  Brunner  and  Irving  Lorge,  Rural  Trends  in  Depression  Years 
(New  York,  1937),  p.  81. 

51  Russell  Lord,  "Back  to  the  Farm,"  Forum,  LXXXIX  (1933),  97-98. 
52Willard  T.  Davis  and  Malcolm  Cowley,  "How  Far  Back  to  the  Land?"  New 

Republic,  LXXV  (1933),  336. 

53  Lord,  "Back  to  the  Farm,"  p.  98.  w  Ibid.,  p.  97. 

55  Arthur  Pound,  "Land  Ho!"  Atlantic  Monthly,  CLI  (1933),  715. 


The  Land  29 

voices  began  to  demand  reason  instead  of  romanticism  and  direction 
and  instruction  for  the  prospective  back-to-the-lander.  Newly  created 
social  problems  appeared;  and  the  inescapable  facts  of  unemployment 
remained,  with  many  predicting  that  because  of  technological  ad- 
vances employment  could  never  again  include  all  the  prospective 
workers.56  The  "march  back  home"  continued. 

One  way  of  relief  lay  close  at  hand.  The  vacant-lot-garden  idea  was 
resuscitated.  Garden  clubs  sprang  up  all  over  the  country,  with  the 
Extension  Service  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  reporting  that  a 
large  share  of  its  work  consisted  of  directing  and  assisting  the  new 
gardeners.  In  Kansas,  a  farm  state,  sixty-three  of  seventy-eight  coun- 
ties had  garden  plans  by  1933.57  Many  large  corporations  provided 
garden  space  for  their  employees.  Standard  Oil,  Studebaker,  and  the 
American  Rolling  Mill  Company  donated  land  for  individual  gardens. 
B.  F.  Goodrich  promoted  community  gardens,  as  did  United  States 
Steel.  Forty  per  cent  of  the  railroad  companies  promoted  gardens.  But 
it  was  Henry  Ford  who  went  the  limit.  He  sponsored  50,000  gardens 
in  the  Detroit  area  and  astonished  the  nation  by  announcing  that, 
starting  in  1932,  no  employee  of  his  woodworking  plant  at  Iron 
Mountain,  Michigan,  could  retain  his  job  unless  he  grew  a  garden  to 
supply  part  of  his  winter  food  needs.  On  his  part,  Ford  promised  that 
the  company  would  provide  expert  aid  and  plots  for  those  who  needed 
them.58  Ford,  who  had  heretofore  been  unsuccessful  in  marrying 
shop  and  field,  decreed  that  "the  man  too  lazy  to  work  in  a  garden 
during  his  leisure  time  does  not  deserve  a  job."  His  dictatorial  decree 
was  quickly  called  paternalism  and  the  gardens  dubbed  "shotgun 
gardens."  59 

A  number  of  more  ambitious  back-to-the-land  schemes  were  suc- 
cessfully managed.  The  Atlanta  Chamber  of  Commerce  sent  several 

50  Ibid.,  pp.  716-717,  719. 

57  Department  of  Agriculture,  Agricultural  Extension  Service,  "Subsistence  Gar- 
dens Flourish,"  Extension  Service  Review,  IV  (Nov.,  1933),  109. 

58 Warren  Bishop,  "How  Business  Fights  the  Wolf,"  Nations  Business,  XX 
(Nov.,  1933),  24-25,  54;  U.S.  Department  of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics, 
"Gardens  for  Unemployed  Workers,"  Monthly  Labor  Review,  XXXV  (1932),  495- 
496;  "Ford  Promotes  His  Hobby  to  Unite  Farm  and  Factory,"  Business  Week, 
Sept.  2,  1931,  p.  23. 

59  "Stirred  Up  by  Henry  Ford's  Shotgun  Gardens,"  Literary  Digest,  CX  (Sept. 
12,  1931),  10. 


30  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

selected  families  back  to  farms.  Los  Angeles  proposed  a  "land  chest" 
for  its  one-foot-in-the-cotmtry  part-time  farmers.60  In  Muscogee 
County,  Georgia,  a  local  relief  commission  aided  city  dwellers  in  re- 
turning to  tenant  farming.61  In  Michigan  300  families  from  large  cities 
established  the  Sunrise  Co-operative  Farm  Community  on  10,000  acres 
of  land,  where  they  planned  to  raise  all  needed  food  and  enough 
marketable  products  to  procure  clothing.  They  shared  everything  in 
common,  even  making  the  care  of  children  a  community  matter.62 
After  three  years  of  unsuccessful  operation  by  about  seventy-five 
Jewish  families  the  Sunrise  Co-operative  Community  was  sold  in 
1936  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  became  the  site  of  the 
Saginaw  Valley  Farms,  a  rural  resettlement  community.  Across  the 
border,  in  Canada,  both  Saskatchewan  and  Manitoba  advanced 
funds  to  selected  back-to-the-landers.63  One  of  the  more  ambitious 
schemes  in  the  United  States,  and  one  that  materially  influenced 
subsistence  homesteads  legislation,  was  carried  out  in  Greenville, 
South  Carolina.  In  1931  Charles  L.  Richardson,  Commissioner  of 
Conciliation,  Department  of  Labor,  was  sent  to  Greenville  to  assist  in 
relief  to  the  unemployed.  With  the  assistance  of  Red  Cross  workers 
and  funds,  Richardson  placed  forty-two  destitute  families  on  aban- 
doned farms  in  the  area  around  the  city.  Most  of  the  farms  were 
acquired  at  a  small  rent  from  the  Farm  Loan  Bank.  Contrary  to  many 
predictions  the  farmers  remained  on  the  land.64 

By  1932  several  people  were  clamoring  for  some  directed  program 
of  land  settlement.  The  Salvation  Army  had  complete  plans  for  mov- 
ing thousands  to  the  country,  but  insufficient  funds.65  One  proposal, 
based  on  past  plans  within  the  Reclamation  Service,  suggested  that 
a  colony  be  established  in  each  state,  utilizing  the  engineering  ability 
of  the  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  the  agricultural  advice  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture,  and  the  ready  funds  of  the  Federal  Land  Bank.66 
A  more  elaborate  scheme  called  for  an  agricultural  army.  Enlisted 

60  Back-to-the-Land,"  Survey,  LXVIII   (1932),  614. 

61  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  12-13. 

62  "Unemployed  Workers  Farm  10,000  Acres  in  Michigan,"  American  Observer, 
III  (Oct.  25,  1933),  6. 

^Murchie,  Land  Settlement  as  a  Relief  Measure,  pp.  16-18. 
w  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unem- 
ployment, pp.  35-42;  "By  Way  of  the  Hoe,"  Survey,  LXVII  (1932),  538. 
65  C.R.,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1932,  p.  15385. 
"Alvin  Johnson,  "Relief  from  Farm  Relief,"  Yale  Review,  XXII  (1932),  64. 


The  Land  31 

families,  officered  by  skilled  agriculturalists,  would  build  log  houses, 
wear  homespun,  and  grow  food  only  for  their  own  consumption.  The 
author  of  this  plan  pointed  to  its  small  cost  and  to  the  fact  that  the 
army  colonies  would  become  great  farm  demonstration  units  and  that 
the  agricultural  army,  permanently  organized,  would  offer  a  lasting 
guarantee  to  everyone  of  the  right  to  work.67 

Bernarr  Macfadden,  physical  culturist  and  publisher  of  several 
newspapers  and  cheap  magazines,  probably  did  more  than  anyone  else 
to  promote  back-to-the-land  legislation  in  the  United  States  Congress.68 
In  1932  and  1933  he  maintained  a  lobbyist  in  Washington  to  develop 
support  for  a  government  subsistence  homesteads  program.  By  means 
of  a  stream  of  articles  in  his  publications  he  defended  the  idea.  To 
Macfadden  the  problem  was  very  simple — get  the  people  on  the  land 
and  they  could  take  care  of  themselves.  In  short,  he  wanted  the  govern- 
ment to  "take  people  out  of  the  bread  line  and  put  them  upon  land 
and  give  them  some  coarse  food  and  implements  that  are  essential  to 
work  the  land  and  enable  them  to  raise  their  own  vegetables." 69 
Other  considerations  about  the  people's  welfare  did  not  matter  to 
Macfadden,  who  declared  that  it  made  no  "difference  whether  the 
people  have  much  to  wear;  they  will  be  satisfied  with  enough  to  eat."  70 
As  a  result  of  Macfadden's  efforts  and  in  light  of  relief  measures  al- 
ready undertaken  in  Greenville,  South  Carolina,  and  in  New  York 
State,  Loring  M.  Black,  Jr.,  Representative  from  New  York,  introduced 
two  bills  in  1932  providing  for  government  information  or  assistance 
to  those  seeking  subsistence  living  in  rural  areas.71  In  the  Senate, 
Charles  L.  McNary  of  Oregon  introduced  an  almost  identical  measure 
in  the  form  of  a  joint  resolution.72  The  Senate  resolution  called  for 
the  Department  of  Agriculture  (the  Black  bills  designated  the  De- 
partment of  Labor )  to  provide  information  to  prospective  back-to-the- 
landers  about  available  lands  and  sources  of  finance.73  One  of  the 
Black  bills  went  farther  and  provided  for  an  appropriation  of  $10,000,- 

07  Malcolm  McDermott,  "An  Agricultural  Army,"  South  Atlantic  Quarterly, 
XXXI  (1932),  181-183. 

68  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  23. 

69  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unem- 
ployment, p.  23. 

™Ibid.  71C.R.,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess,  1932,  p.  15384. 

"Ibid.,  p.  15381. 

73  Senate  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  Forestry,  The  United  Communities, 
Report  no.  799,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1932,  pp.  1-2. 


32  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

000  to  be  used  by  the  Department  of  Labor  in  providing  farming  op- 
portunities to  destitute  and  unemployed  persons  with  former  agricul- 
tural experience.74 

Since  these  Macfadden  bills,  as  they  were  referred  to  in  congres- 
sional debate,  were  the  most  direct  antecedents  of  the  later  subsistence 
homesteads  legislation  and  the  only  bills  to  receive  any  attention 
from  the  floor  of  Congress,  the  committee  hearings  and  floor  debate  on 
these  measures  remain  the  sole  indication  of  early  congressional 
sentiment  toward  subsistence  homesteads.  The  Black  bill  requiring  an 
appropriation  of  $10,000,000  was  not  reported  from  the  House  Com- 
mittee on  Labor  because  it  had  no  chance  of  passage  in  a  penurious 
Congress.75  The  Senate  Joint  Resolution,  which  received  a  favorable 
report  by  the  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  Forestry,  passed  in  the 
Senate  by  voice  vote,  despite  the  reluctant  acceptance  given  the  bill 
by  Secretary  of  Agriculture  Arthur  M.  Hyde,  who  was  much  con- 
cerned about  the  effect  the  measure  might  have  upon  mounting 
agricultural  surpluses.76  The  Black  bills  received  a  hearing  before  the 
House  Committee  on  Labor,  where  the  most  extensive  and  objective 
testimony  was  given  by  Dr.  John  D.  Black,  Harvard  professor  and 
farm  economist  for  the  Federal  Farm  Board.  Black  cautiously  admitted 
possibilities  of  temporary  relief  in  idle  farms  near  cities  and  in  city 
gardens.  He  also  predicted  a  future  need,  after  the  return  of  pros- 
perity, for  the  planned  development  of  small,  part-time  farms  near 
cities,  but  advised  against  any  extensive  colonization  plans  in  a  de- 
pression, pointing  to  past  failures  and  prohibitive  costs.  The  other 
witnesses  were  largely  back-to-the-land  advocates  who  compensated 
for  their  vague  plans  by  their  sincere  fervor.  The  parade  of  advocates, 
many  already  discussed  in  former  pages,  included  Macfadden;  his 
lobbyist,  Mrs.  Edith  R.  Lumsden;  Mrs.  Haviland  D.  Lund,  of  the 
former  National  Forward  to  the  Land  League;  Edgar  Schmiedeler, 
who  represented  the  views  of  the  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference; 
Miss  Mae  A.  Schnurr  of  the  Bureau  of  Reclamation;  Hugh  MacRae, 
a  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  businessman  who  had  established  some 
farming  colonies;  and  others  representing  Negroes,  the  Department  of 

74  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unem- 
ployment, pp.  1-2. 

75  C.R.,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1932,  p.  15386. 

ielbid.,  p.  13839;  Senate  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  Forestry,  The  United 
Communities,  pp.  1-2. 


The  Land  33 

Labor,  and  a  back-tothe-land  movement  within  the  Episcopal 
Church.77 

On  the  floor  of  the  House  of  Representatives  the  Senate-approved 
joint  resolution  was  subjected  to  the  only  extensive  floor  debate  ever 
accorded  subsistence  homesteads  legislation.  Defended  on  the  basis 
of  pressing  need  by  its  cosponsor,  Loring  Black,  the  resolution  was 
most  cogently  attacked  by  Fiorello  H.  LaGuardia  of  New  York,  who 
described  it  as  worthless  without  an  appropriation.  He  argued  that 
moving  destitute  men  back  to  the  farm  was  a  "hard,  practical,  prop- 
osition" requiring  extensive  guidance  and  financial  assistance,  for 
"everything  is  not  what  it  once  was  on  the  farm."  LaGuardia  castigated 
Congress  for  continually  seeking  inexpensive  but  ineffective  pal- 
liatives.78 Also  opposing  the  bill  on  very  effective  grounds  were  farm- 
state  congressmen  who  wished  to  protect  the  farmer  from  possible 
competition  by  back-to-the-landers.79 

Most  of  the  arguments  contained  more  eloquence  and  invective  than 
calm  reason.  Robert  A.  Green  of  Florida  declared  that  it  was  either 
back  to  the  farm  now  or  later  for  millions  of  unemployed,  who  were 
never  going  to  find  employment  again  and  who  would  have  to  seek 
relief  on  the  millions  of  idle  acres,  where  they  could  "from  the  breast 
of  mother  nature  wring  an  existence."  80  But  to  Green  this  was  not  bad 
news:  "The  farms  have  always  produced  our  great  leaders  in  finance, 
industry  and  statesmanship.  .  .  .  The  vast  population  must  depart 
from  the  congested  industrial  centers  and  cities  and  once  again  be- 
come self-sustaining  on  our  vast  and  fertile  farms,  pasture,  and  prairie 
lands.  Herein  lies  the  real  hope  for  the  bright  destiny  of  America."  81 
Green  had  a  vision  of  a  new  America  just  ten  years  in  the  future,  when 
there  would  be  no  congested  industrial  centers  and  the  "choice  people 
of  America  would  live  on  farms,  free,  independent  and  happy,  living 
by  the  sweat  of  their  honest  brows,  laboring  beneath  the  blue  canopy 
of  heaven."  82  William  H.  Stafford  of  Wisconsin  declared  that  on  the 
farm  the  poor  could  "have  a  cow  and  a  pig  and  the  like"  and  there 
"make  a  step  toward  relieving  themselves  and  those  dearest  to  them 
by  cultivating  God's  native  soil."  83  His  colleague  from  Wisconsin  and 

77  House  Committee  on  Labor,  Hearings  on  Relief  of  Distress  Due  to  Unem- 
ployment, pp.  5-108. 

78C.R.,  72d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1932,  p.  15385.  "Ibid.,  p.  15387. 

80  Ibid.,  p.  15386.  81  Ibid.  82  Ibid.  w  Ibid.,  p.  15385. 


34  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  most  bitter  critic  of  the  resolution,  John  C.  Schafer,  suggested  that 
Macfadden  use  his  wealth  to  furnish  the  back-to-the-landers  a  cow 
and  a  pig,  as  well  as  a  year's  subscription  to  True  Stories  or  True 
Romances.  Schafer  facetiously  asked:  "Are  you  going  to  take  these 
poor  unemployed  city  people  with  their  little  children,  and  put  them 
out  on  the  farms  where  it  is  sometimes  22  degrees  below  zero  and 
where  the  snow  is  as  high  as  10  feet  deep,  and  then  say  that  you  are 
saving  them?"  84  Also,  "If  a  neighbor  gives  them  a  cow  .  .  .  what  are 
they  going  to  feed  it?  Snow  from  some  of  the  banks  5  or  6  or  10  feet 
deep?"  85  By  a  vote  of  75  to  58  the  House  sent  the  resolution  back  to 
committee.  Later  it  was  resurrected  only  to  be  tabled.86 

In  New  York  State  a  temporary  Emergency  Relief  Administration 
had  actually  assisted  many  people  back  to  the  land.  This  received  the 
approval  of  New  York's  governor,  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt.  As  early  as 
1913  Roosevelt  had  suggested  that  suburban  farms  should  be  provided 
for  city  dwellers,  thereby  making  city  life  tolerable  and  cities  places 
"where  people  will  be  pretty  proud  to  hail  from."  87  This  desire  to 
provide  an  institutional  link  between  city  and  country  led  Roosevelt 
into  an  advocacy  of  both  suburban  and  rural  planning,  rather  than 
purely  sentimental  back-to-the-land  schemes.  But  always,  with  Roo- 
sevelt, there  was  a  kinship  with  the  more  romantic  agrarians.  Accord- 
ing to  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  Roosevelt  "always  did,  and  always  would, 
think  people  better  off  in  the  country  and  would  regard  the  cities  as 
rather  hopeless."  88  In  1911  Roosevelt  gave  the  following  statement  of 
his  agrarianism:  "In  fact,  I  might  almost  say  that  the  political  salvation 
of  the  country  lies  with  the  country  men  and  boys.  Not  because  they 
are  more  honest  or  more  patriotic  than  their  brothers  in  the  cities, 
but  because  they  have  more  time  to  think  and  study  for  themselves."  89 
Tugwell  discovered  this  rural  pattern  of  thinking  in  Roosevelt  and 
used  it  to  get  close  to  him.  In  the  "brain  trust"  days  before  Roosevelt 
entered  the  White  House,  he  described  to  Tugwell  in  nostalgic  terms 
his  ambition  to  place  the  unemployed  population  on  subsistence  home- 
steads. According  to  Tugwell  they  "again  and  again  explored  the  de- 
lights of  country  life,  detailed  the  possibilities  of  improvement,  and 

84 IM.,  p.  15389.  KIbid.  "Ibid.,  pp.  15390,  15725. 

'"Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "The  Sources  of  New  Deal  Reformism,"  Ethics,  LXIV 
(1954),  276. 
"Ibid.,  p.  266. 
"Ibid.,  p.  275,  as  quoted  from  the  New  York  Globe,  Feb.  6,  1911. 


The  Land  35 

speculated  about  means  for  introducing  rural  virtues  into  cities."  90  Tug- 
well  believed  it  "sheer  luck  that  I  caught  the  meaning  to  him  of  country 
life"  and  ascribed  his  later  appointment  as  Assistant  Secretary  of 
Agriculture  to  his  and  Roosevelt's  mutual  exploration  of  the  "emotional 
paths"  of  rural  life.91  In  1931  Roosevelt,  when  commenting  on  the 
back-to-the-land  movement,  asked  the  following  leading  question: 
"Suppose  one  were  to  offer  these  [unemployed]  men  opportunity  to 
go  on  the  land,  to  provide  a  house  and  a  few  acres  in  the  country 
and  a  little  money  and  tools  to  put  in  small  food  crops?"  92  He  believed 
the  idea  had  implications  worth  serious  consideration. 

In  1931,  at  the  request  of  President  Hoover's  Committee  on  Un- 
employment Relief  and  of  the  Federal  Children's  Bureau,  the  American 
Friends  Service  Committee,  under  the  direction  of  its  executive 
secretary,  Clarence  E.  Pickett,  began  extensive  child  feeding  and 
other  relief  activities  in  the  bituminous  coal  fields  of  West  Virginia, 
Maryland,  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Illinois,  and  Pennsylvania.93  The 
Friends,  in  addition  to  distributing  food,  decided  to  try  to  do  some 
permanent  rehabilitation  work  with  the  estimated  500,000  unemployed 
and  stranded  people.  Assisted  by  the  Federal  Council  of  Churches 
and  with  some  guidance  from  the  United  States  Bureau  of  Education 
and  the  Pennsylvania  State  Bureau  of  Education,  the  committee  began 
moving  miners  to  subsistence  farms  elsewhere  and,  at  the  same  time, 
started  a  part-time  farming,  part-time  mining  program  for  the  ones 
remaining  in  the  mine  areas.  As  further  assistance,  the  Friends,  work- 
ing without  exact  precedents,  established  handicraft  shops  and  pro- 
moted gardening  clubs.  A  Mountaineer  Craftsman's  Co-operative  As- 
sociation employed  fifty  men  and  women  in  weaving  and  furniture 
making  in  the  Morgantown,  West  Virginia,  area.94 

""Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "The  Preparation  of  a  President,"  Western  Political 
Quarterly,  I  (1948),  132-133. 

91  Ibid.,  pp.  133-134. 

02  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  "Back  to  the  Land,"  Review  of  Reviews,  LXXXIV 
(Oct.,  1931),  64. 

93 American  Friends  Service  Committee,  Annual  Report  for  1931-32  (Phila- 
delphia, 1932),  p.  15. 

94  Clarence  E.  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread  (Boston,  1953),  pp.  21-22;  Ameri- 
can Friends  Service  Committee,  Annual  Report  for  1933  (Philadelphia,  1933), 
pp.  16-17;  American  Friends  Service  Committee,  Report  of  the  Child  Relief  Work 
in  the  Bituminous  Coal  Fields,  September  1,  1931 — August  31,  1932  (n.p.,  n.d.), 
pp.  8-10,  15-17. 


36  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

The  experiences  of  the  Friends  Service  Committee  in  West  Virginia 
attracted  the  attention  of  Eleanor  Roosevelt,  who  visited  the  West 
Virginia  mining  area  just  after  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  entered  the 
White  House.  This  visit  stimulated  her  interest  in  the  plight  of  the 
miners  and  in  subsistence  homesteads.  Her  interest  practically  assured 
a  government-sponsored  subsistence  homesteads  project  for  the 
Morgantown  area.  It  also  led  to  the  appointment  of  Clarence  E.  Pickett 
as  Assistant  Administrator  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.93 
In  addition,  the  later  handicraft  program  of  the  Subsistence  Home- 
steads Division  was  first  developed  in  the  pioneer  work  of  the  Friends. 
Many  of  the  Friends'  relief  workers  continued  to  assist  voluntarily  after 
the  work  was  taken  over  by  the  government,  some  living  in  subsistence 
homesteads  and  devoting  themselves  to  community  building  or  to  the 
establishment  of  co-operative  shops.96  Four  of  the  most  controversial 
subsistence  homesteads  communities  (Arthurdale,  Cumberland  Home- 
steads, Westmoreland  Homesteads,  and  Tygart  Valley  Homesteads) 
developed  from  the  Friends'  activities. 

The  back-to-the-land  movement,  springing  from  the  urgency  of 
depression  or  founded  largely  in  nebulous,  romantic,  or  escapist 
philosophies,  was  relatively  unimportant  in  giving  direction  to  the 
actual  administration  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  and  resettlement 
programs.  As  a  whole,  the  direction  of,  as  well  as  part  of  the  motiva- 
tion for,  government  communities  came  from  social  scientists  and 
from  advocates  of  governmental  planning.  Although  the  back-to- 
the-land  movement  contributed  such  men  as  Macfadden,  MacRae, 
Borsodi,  Father  Ligutti,  and  Clarence  Pickett  to  the  actual  administra- 
tion or  policy  making  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  those 
men,  excepting  Pickett,  either  soon  left  the  movement  or  exerted  a 
strictly  local  influence  on  single  projects.  But  it  is  almost  inconceivable 
that  there  would  have  been  any  subsistence  homesteads  legislation 
without  the  back-to-the-land  movement  of  the  depression  period.  This 
fact  alone  made  the  back-to-the-land  movement  an  important,  even 
a  basic,  factor  in  the  entrance  of  the  federal  government  into  the  field 
of  community  building. 

96  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread,  pp.  44-45. 

96  American  Friends  Service  Committee,  Annual  Report  for  1934  (Philadelphia, 
1934),  p.  15. 


II 


Bringing  the  Town  to  the  Country 


"BACK-to-the-land"  was  not  the  only  slogan  that  influenced  the 
creation  of  the  New  Deal  communities.  After  1929  the  concept  of 
"planning"  also  became  a  slogan  and  a  proposed  escape  from  in- 
security. Just  as  much  as  a  wholesale  return  to  the  land,  "planning," 
if  the  implications  of  the  term  had  been  fully  defined  and  compre- 
hended, probably  implied  more  a  revolution  than  a  mere  palliative. 
But  most  of  the  people,  businessmen  included,  who  acclaimed  plan- 
ning in  1933  comprehended  only  their  own  distress.  They  no  more 
understood  the  implications  of  the  term  "planning"  than  many  urban- 
ites  comprehended  the  true  situation  back  on  the  farm.  It  even  seems 
likely  that  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  acclaimed  planning  without  a  full 
understanding  of  its  implications.  Yet,  as  one  convinced  planner  has 
said,  Roosevelt's  first  historic  achievement  was  that  "in  his  campaign 
for  the  presidency,  [he]  raised  economic  and  social  planning  to  the 
status  of  a  recognized  national  policy."  1 

In  origin  the  New  Deal  communities  were  very  closely  associated 
with  this  new  emphasis  on  planning.  Three  related  but  separate  plan- 
ning movements  influenced  the  entrance  of  the  government  into  the 
field  of  community  building  and  contributed  almost  all  the  personnel 
to  the  agencies  that  planned  and  developed  the  communities.  One 
very  significant  movement  was  concerned  with  the  development  of  a 

1  Louis  L.  Lorwin,  Time  for  Planning  ( New  York,  1945 ) ,  p.  137. 

37 


38  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

policy  of  planned  land  settlement,  directed  toward  organized  rural 
communities  containing  many  urban  advantages.  Another  was  the 
city  planning  movement  or,  more  specifically,  a  certain  element  in 
the  city  planning  movement  which  emphasized  the  need  for  develop- 
ing wholly  new  towns  or  communities  in  a  spacious,  rural  environment. 
Lastly,  and  perhaps  most  important,  was  the  movement,  at  first  largely 
among  economists  in  the  universities,  for  a  broad  program  of  national 
economic  planning  which,  most  important  for  the  New  Deal  com- 
munities, included  land-use  and  agricultural  planning.  These  three 
movements  will  be  considered  in  this  and  the  next  two  chapters. 

Before  approaching  either  of  the  above-mentioned  planning  move- 
ments, a  few  comments  on  the  term  "planning"  are  worth  while.  Plan- 
ning itself  denotes  purposeful  endeavor  and  is,  therefore,  an  activity 
possible  for  all  men.  To  plan  is  to  be  human.  Individuals  are  constantly 
selecting  goals  and  means  to  achieve  them — or,  in  other  words,  are 
planning.  But  at  the  time  of  the  New  Deal  the  term  "planning"  was 
related  not  to  individuals  but  to  a  group  of  individuals  or  a  whole  na- 
tion planning  collectively.  If  everyone  in  a  state  could  agree  on  ends 
and  means,  collective  planning  would  involve  no  sharp  distinction 
from  individual  planning,  but  obviously  individuals  do  not  always 
agree  on  either  ends  or  means.  This  fact  severely  restricts  the  amount 
of  collective  planning  possible  in  a  society  or  necessitates  some  degree 
of  discipline  on  the  part  of  individuals.  Much  of  this  discipline  will  be 
voluntary — in  fact,  in  a  democratic  society,  the  degree  of  voluntary 
discipline  almost  determines  the  extent  of  collective  planning.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  any  society  there  is  some  coercive,  involuntary  dis- 
cipline, particularly  for  small  minorities.  In  all  cases  some  individuals 
do  not  share  in  the  planning  but  are  necessarily  included  in  it.  The 
greater  the  extension  of  collective  planning,  the  greater  is  the  likeli- 
hood that  a  larger  number  of  individuals  will  have  to  be  coerced  un- 
less some  emergency  or  crisis,  such  as  war  or  depression,  causes  more 
people  to  be  willing  voluntarily  to  acquiesce  in  common  goals  and 
programs.  In  these  instances  the  planning  program,  with  its  restrictions 
on  individual  freedom,  will  last  only  as  long  as  the  crisis  unless  some 
method  of  coercion,  such  as  propaganda  or  police  methods,  is  in- 
stituted. 

In  1933  the  term  "planning"  usually  implied  planning  by  a  govern- 
ment. Collective  programs  were  to  be  realized  through  the  instrumen- 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  39 

tality  of  government.  Actually  the  very  existence  of  government  almost 
necessitates  some  type  of  collective  planning.  In  the  United  States 
the  government  had  always  implemented  certain  common  goals,  either 
those  held  by  many  people  or  by  a  few  powerful  people.  Thus,  in  the 
New  Deal,  the  real  argument  was  not  over  state  planning  but  over 
the  extent  of  state  planning,  which,  in  reality,  was  the  old  argument 
over  the  desirable  role  and  function  of  a  government  in  a  society.  Yet 
the  term  "government,"  even  in  the  most  representative  republics,  is 
usually  associated  not  with  the  voting  public  but  with  the  individuals, 
elected  or  appointed,  who  execute  public  programs.  Regardless  of  the 
method  used  in  selecting  these  programs,  much  of  the  policy,  much 
of  the  detailed  planning,  is  left  to  these  public  officials.  In  modern 
governments  the  complexities  of  administration  require  more  and  more 
expert  knowledge  from  the  bureaucrats,  thus  separating  them  and 
their  work  more  and  more  from  the  voting  masses.  The  bureaucrat 
becomes  not  only  an  agent  to  implement  the  goals  of  the  people,  but 
himself  plans  broad  programs  which  he  may  or  may  not  have  to  pre- 
sent to  the  voters  for  approval  or  disapproval.  Thus,  in  the  New  Deal, 
the  increased  emphasis  on  the  term  "planning"  not  only  implied  an 
increased  role  for  the  State  in  society  but,  springing  from  this,  an  in- 
creased importance  for  the  bureaucratic  expert. 

Finally,  the  term  "planning"  meant,  to  many  people  in  1933,  a  cer- 
tain "looking  forward"  activity  within  a  government.  This  specific  ac- 
tivity could  be  either  a  part  of  ordinary  action  programs  or  a  special 
branch  of  government,  such  as  state  or  city  planning  boards  or  com- 
missions. In  either  case  highly  skilled  professional  planners  were  to  be 
utilized  by  the  government  to  study  future  needs  and  to  recommend 
specific  policies  or  programs.  Although  their  recommendations  would 
be  based  not  only  on  detailed  statistical  studies  but  also  on  their 
personal  philosophies,  this  type  of  planning  apparently  promised 
better  government,  since  policies  and  programs  would  be  selected 
only  on  the  basis  of  comprehensive  and  technically  accurate  facts. 
Thus,  to  some,  governmental  planning  meant  better,  more  efficient 
government.  To  others  it  also  meant  more  government,  with  new 
programs  being  based  on  the  social  vision  of  enlightened  planning 
officials. 

When,  around  1900,  a  few  individuals  began  to  ask  for  a  government 
policy  of  planned  and  directed  land  settlement,  they  were  asking  for 


40  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

a  complete  revision  of  the  recent  United  States  policy  toward  land 
settlement.  In  colonial  America  the  public  lands  in  New  England  were 
settled  under  rigid  regulations  and  controls.  The  townships  often  were 
settled  under  regulations  governing  the  size  of  family  units,  the  time 
limits  on  full  settlement,  the  size  of  houses,  the  amount  of  land  to 
be  improved,  the  provision  of  church  and  school  facilities,  and  the 
ultimate  disposition  of  surrounding  land.  In  1784  and  1785,  partly 
because  of  the  influence  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  much  of  the  New  Eng- 
land idea  of  directed  colonization  was  incorporated  into  the  first  land 
ordinances.  Surveys  were  to  precede  sales.  A  section  was  to  be  reserved 
for  education.  Four  sections  were  retained  for  the  future  disposal  by 
Congress,  and  one-third  of  the  mineral  rights  were  reserved  for  Con- 
gress. Land  was  to  be  sold  by  townships  and,  to  secure  compactness, 
each  township  was  to  be  completely  sold  before  a  new  one  was  opened 
to  sale.  Of  these  early  provisions  only  the  requirement  of  prior  survey 
and  the  reservation  for  schools  were  retained  as  permanent,  though 
much  abused,  policies  in  the  nineteenth  century.2 

Apparently  the  main  objective  of  nineteenth-century  public  land 
policies  was  the  most  rapid  possible  disposal  of  the  public  lands  to 
private  individuals.  Even  the  early  use  of  the  lands  as  a  source  of 
revenue  was  gradually  replaced  by  liberal  pre-emption  and  home- 
stead acts,  as  well  as  by  huge  grants  for  internal  improvements.  Ex- 
cept for  the  idea  that  ownership  should  be  widely  diffused  in  family- 
size  farms,  there  were  few  guiding  objectives.  Mineral  and  timber 
rights  were  given  away  or  sold  at  fractions  of  their  value,  without 
awareness  of  public  interest.  Even  the  few  regulations  as  to  survey 
and  recording  of  titles  were  never  enforceable.  The  people  desired 
free  land  and  little  control  over  how  they  settled  it.3  The  public  interest 
may  not  have  been  served,  but,  in  a  democracy,  who  can  safeguard 
the  public  interest  except  the  public  itself? 

Even  as  the  better  public  lands  began  to  disappear,  new  settlement 
policies  were  developed.  The  short-lived  and  unsatisfactory  Timber 
Culture  Act  of  1873,  which  required  all  homesteaders  on  the  plains 
to  cultivate  a  fixed  acreage  of  trees,  represented  a  beautiful  dream  of 
dark  green  trees  on  the  bleak  treeless  plain.4  As  Secretary  of  the 

2  Benjamin  H.  Hibbard,  A  History  of  the  Public  Land  Policies  (New  York, 
1924),  pp.  36-40. 

8  Ibid.,  pp.  550-551.  *  Ibid.,  p.  413. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  41 

Interior  under  Hayes,  Carl  Schtirz  recommended  the  withdrawal  of 
timberlands  from  homestead  entry  and  requested  a  law  providing 
for  timber  culture.  In  1879  the  United  States  Geological  Survey  and 
the  Public  Land  Commission  were  established,  eventuating  in  a  land 
conference  in  the  same  year.  A  strong  conservation  movement  de- 
veloped in  the  eighties,  led  by  the  American  Forestry  Association, 
which  was  founded  in  1884.  It  was  ably  supported  by  many  young, 
German-trained  economists  who  united  to  form  the  American  Eco- 
nomic Association  in  1885.  They  not  only  had  observed  German 
scientific  forestry  but  had  learned  that  the  state  could  safely  enter 
the  realm  of  economic  regulation.  In  1891  an  act  to  repeal  the  several 
timber  culture  laws  led  to  a  virtual  revolution  in  public  land  policy, 
for  the  act  permitted  the  President  to  set  aside  public  lands  as  forest 
reserves.  After  a  century  of  rapid  disposal,  a  policy  of  retention  was 
adopted.  Under  Theodore  Roosevelt,  a  passionate  conservationist,  the 
new  policy  bore  abundant  fruit,  for  he  set  aside  148,346,925  acres; 
he  also  extended  the  policy  of  retention  to  oil  lands,  power  and 
reservoir  sites,  and  mineral  lands.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  end 
for  the  old  public  land  policies,  although  it  was  only  on  February  5, 
1935,  that  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  withdrew  the  last  of  the  public  lands 
from  entry.5 

Conservation  marked  the  negative  aspect  of  the  new  land  policy. 
The  positive  side  of  the  new  policies  involved  the  development  of 
land  resources  and  the  control  and  direction  of  settlement.  This  was, 
until  the  New  Deal,  almost  entirely  confined  to  reclamation  projects. 
After  several  years  of  agitation  for  an  irrigation  program  by  the  na- 
tional government,  the  Newlands  Reclamation  Act  was  passed  in 
June,  1902.  It  represented  the  first  time  that  the  government  had  ever 
assumed  a  responsibility  for  improving  the  land  before  sale.  The  act, 
which  was  defended  as  being  similar  to  river  and  harbor  legislation, 
became  a  subject  of  popular  interest,  reflecting  expansionist  and  na- 
tionalistic sentiments,  as  well  as  a  neo-Malthusian  belief  in  the  con- 
tinuous expansion  of  population.  It  was  defended  by  arguments  for 
conservation,  home  building,  and  the  relief  of  congested  cities.  Like 

5  Roy  M.  Robbins,  Our  Landed  Heritage  (Princeton,  N.J.,  1942),  pp.  286-290, 
422;  Leonard  A.  Salter,  Jr.,  A  Critical  Review  of  Research  in  Land  Economics 
(Minneapolis,  1948),  pp.  6-7;  Hibbard,  A  History  of  the  Public  Land  Policies, 
pp.  520-523,  530-531. 


42  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

all  subsequent  reclamation  or  land  settlement  legislation,  it  was  op- 
posed by  the  Midwestern  farmers  who  saw,  in  reclamation  projects, 
government-sponsored  and  aided  competition.  They  argued  that  the 
act  was  unconstitutional  and  that  the  government  had  the  power  only 
to  dispose  of  its  public  lands,  not  to  develop  them.6 

The  Newslands  Reclamation  Act  did  not  mark  a  revolutionary  de- 
parture from  the  objectives  of  past  land  legislation.  The  govern- 
ment assumed  the  new  task  of  constructing  irrigation  works,  utilizing 
funds  from  the  sale  of  public  lands,  but  the  homesteaders  on  an  ir- 
rigation project  had  to  repay  the  government  over  a  period  of  ten 
years.7  Acreage  limitations  and  residence  requirements  were  often 
abused  in  practice,  but  in  principle  the  old  idea  of  complete,  fee 
simple  ownership  of  small  farms  by  individual  farmers  was  honored. 
In  the  Newlands  Act  every  possible  attempt  was  made  to  limit  gov- 
ernment paternalism  to  the  minimum  task  of  constructing  the  dams 
and  irrigation  works,  a  task  manifestly  impossible  for  an  individual 
settler.  As  soon  as  paid  for,  the  works  were  to  be  maintained  and 
operated  by  the  settlers,  although  the  actual  title  remained  in  the 
hands  of  the  government.  There  was  no  provision  for  the  selection 
of  settlers,  for  the  provision  of  credit,  or  for  the  preparation  of  the 
farms  to  receive  water.8 

Although  the  Newslands  Act  was  hardly  changed  until  the  twenties, 
a  whole  new  philosophy  of  land  settlement  and  reclamation,  as  well 
as  a  changed  concept  of  the  role  or  function  of  government,  was  de- 
veloped by  individuals  closely  connected  with  national  or  state  recla- 
mation agencies.  One  of  these  individuals  so  influenced  reclamation 
and  land  settlement  policies  in  the  United  States  that  he,  virtually 
alone,  was  responsible  for  two  decades  of  attempted  revision  and 
reform  in  reclamation.  Eventually  his  ideas,  almost  in  their  totality, 

6  John  T.  Ganoe,  "The  Origin  of  a  National  Reclamation  Policy,"  Mississippi 
Valley  Historical  Review,  XVIII  (1931),  48-51;  Lewis  C.  Gray,  "The  Principles 
of  Land  Planning,"  in  Planned  Society,  ed.  by  Findlay  Mackenzie   (New  York, 
1937),  p.  167;  Dorothy  Lampen,  Economic  and  Social  Aspects  of  Federal  Reclama- 
tion   (Johns   Hopkins   University   Studies   in   History   and   Political   Science,    Ser. 
XLVIII,  no.  1;  Baltimore,  1930),  p.  49. 

7  Clarence  J.  McCormick,  "It  Can  Be  Solved,"  in  Land  Tenure,  ed.  by  Ken- 
neth H.  Parsons,  Raymond  J.  Penn,  and  Philip  M.  Raup  (Madison,  Wis.,  1956), 
p.  31. 

8F.  H.  Newell  and  others,  "Federal  Land  Reclamation:  A  National  Problem," 
Engineering  News-Record,  XCI  (1923),  668,  802-807. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  43 

were  adapted  to  the  rural  communities  constructed  by  the  New  Deal. 
His  name  was  Elwood  Mead. 

Elwood  Mead,  a  civil  engineer  and  irrigation  authority,  served 
with  the  United  States  Engineers  and  as  a  college  professor  before 
becoming  territorial  engineer  of  Wyoming  in  1888.  From  1897  to 
1907  he  was  professor  of  institutions  and  practices  of  irrigation  at  the 
University  of  California,  at  the  same  time  serving  the  United  States 
Department  of  Agriculture  as  an  irrigation  and  drainage  investigator. 
In  1904  he  received  an  honorary  doctorate  in  engineering  from  Purdue 
University.  In  1907  he  began  the  most  formative  experience  in  his 
life  as  head  of  the  State  Rivers  and  Water  Supply  Commission  of 
Victoria,  Australia.9  In  Victoria,  Mead  supervised  the  reclamation  and 
settlement  of  thirty-two  irrigation  projects.  In  Australia  the  state  pur- 
chased land,  by  compulsion  if  necessary,  built  the  irrigation  works, 
readied  and  even  planted  the  land,  constructed  roads  and  laid  out 
towns,  prepared  house  plans,  built  fences,  and  located  prospective 
livestock  before  the  settlers  were  invited  to  the  project.  The  settler, 
after  paying  one-third  of  the  purchase  price  of  a  home,  selected  his 
house  plan.  The  government  then  built  his  house.  The  settler  re- 
ceived expert  advice  in  purchasing  his  livestock  and  in  his  farming, 
got  his  nursery  stock  from  a  government  nursery,  and  marketed  his 
products  through  government-supported  co-operatives  and  with  the 
aid  of  government  dairies,  warehouses,  and  slaughterhouses.  He  en- 
joyed the  social  life  of  a  nearby  village  or  town,  which  had,  very 
likely,  been  planned  by  an  English  city  planner,  and  received  twenty- 
year  loans  for  up  to  60  per  cent  of  his  needed  improvements.  Although 
the  settler  purchased  his  land  on  long  terms,  he  never  received 
clear  title,  for  he  was  required  to  live  on  and  cultivate  his  own  land 
in  order  to  retain  it.10  Mead  enthusiastically  endorsed  this  type  of 
land  settlement.  It  became  his  ideal.  He  felt  a  great  compulsion  to 
bring  all  his  newly  discovered  ideas  to  the  United  States  and  see  them 
applied  to  what  he  believed  to  be  a  declining  American  agriculture.11 

In  the  words  of  an  admirer,  Elwood  Mead  dreamed  "the  most 

9Vernon  M.  Cady,  "A  Western  Experiment  in  Land  Settlement,"  Survey,  XL 
(1918),  686. 

10  Elwood  Mead,  "Government  Aid  and  Direction  in  Land  Settlement,"  Ameri- 
can Economic  Review,  Supplement  to  vol.  VIII  (1918),  89-91;  Frederic  C.  Howe, 
"Land  Settlement  and  the  Soldier,"  Nation,  CVIII  (1919),  426. 

11  Howe,  "Land  Settlement  and  the  Soldier,"  p.  426. 


44  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

wonderful  dream  of  social  reclamation  in  America."  12  Mead  wished 
the  United  States  to  adopt  the  Australian  idea  of  an  organized  rural 
society.  He  realized  that  for  the  United  States  to  do  this  would  in- 
volve an  almost  revolutionary  increase  in  the  role  of  government. 
This  he  welcomed.  From  his  travels  he  became  convinced  that  the 
United  States  was  behind  the  rest  of  the  world  in  industrial  and  social 
legislation.  The  state  should  be  the  great  co-ordinating  force  in  in- 
dustry and  commerce;  yet  it  was  not  so  in  the  United  States,  where 
the  best  leadership  and  most  capable  technicians  went  into  business 
instead  of  into  government.  A  false  feeling  that  inefficiency  and 
waste  were  inseparable  from  self-government  had  resulted  in  gov- 
ernmental functions  being  turned  over  to  private  enterprise.  He  be- 
lieved that  increased  governmental  functions  would  enhance  rather 
than  limit  freedom,  for  there  could  be  no  true  freedom  as  long  as  want 
and  misery  existed  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  He  pointed  to  New  Zealand 
and  Australia,  where  the  government  operated  railroads,  telephones, 
telegraphs,  streetcars,  and  express  lines  and  where  it  constructed  urban 
and  rural  housing,  as  examples  of  beneficial  paternalism.  He  urged 
America  to  give  up  the  idea  that  the  state  was  purely  a  political  in- 
stitution with  no  concern  in  human  endeavor,  for  the  state  was,  at 
its  best,  a  business  partner.13  The  paternalism  "which  creates  oppor- 
tunity for  industry  and  thrift,  awakens  hope,  arouses  ambition,  and 
strengthens  belief  in  the  brotherhood  of  man,  is  altogether  good  in 
its  influence  on  character  and  on  the  prosperity  of  the  state."  14 

Although  Mead  wanted  a  new  role  for  government  in  all  realms, 
he  was  content  to  labor  for  an  improved  rural  life.  He  was  enough 
of  an  agrarian  to  believe  that  the  life  of  even  a  modern  nation  de- 
pended upon  a  prosperous,  contented,  landowning  farm  population. 
Yet,  to  him,  farm  life  in  America  was  declining  as  the  youth  of  the 
country  flocked  to  the  cities.  Mead  believed  that  the  clue  to  the  evil 
was  to  be  found  in  the  unorganized,  unplanned  nature  of  American 
country  life.15  Past  land  policies  had  led  to  speculation,  high  land 
prices,  wasted  soil,  inefficiency,  and  tenancy  and,  most  important,  to 

12  U.S.  Senate,  Proceedings  of  the  Southern  Reclamation  Conference,  Document 
no.  45,  70th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1928,  p.  31. 

13Elwood  Mead,  Helping  Men  Own  Farms  (New  York,  1928),  pp.  201-208. 

14  Ibid.,  p.  207. 

^Elwood  Mead,  "Advantages  of  a  Planned  Rural  Development,"  Agricultural 
Engineering,  III  (1922),  42. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  45 

a  deplorable  lack  of  the  social  and  community  life  obtainable  in 
towns  and  cities.  A  planned  rural  development  was  vitally  necessary 
in  order  to  check  political  unrest  and  the  migration  to  cities.  As  a 
beginning  basis  for  reform,  Mead  suggested  the  implementation  of 
the  principle  of  landownership  for  those  who  actually  cultivated  the 
soil.  Although  he  advocated  tenant  purchase  laws,  changes  in  tenure, 
regulated  tenancy,  and  even  the  single  tax  to  reduce  speculation  in 
land,  Mead  believed  that  the  best  starting  place  for  land  reform 
was  in  the  area  of  reclamation,  where  fully  new  communities  could 
be  created  to  demonstrate  the  best  principles  of  rural  planning.16 
The  reclamation  service  had  done  excellent  engineering  in  the  past, 
but  nothing  else.  Mead  wished  to  combine  social  reclamation  with 
land  reclamation,  social  engineering  with  irrigation  engineering. 

Mead's  idea  of  an  organized  rural  society  included  many  innova- 
tions for  American  agriculture.  The  first  and  most  basic  necessity 
of  rural  planning,  according  to  Mead,  was  group  rather  than  indi- 
vidual settlement.  Community  settlement  meant  not  only  recreational 
and  social  advantages,  but  also  co-operative  institutions.  It  required 
the  grouping  of  the  farms  around  a  village  or  community  center, 
which  would  contain  stores,  the  church  and  school,  co-operative  mar- 
kets, and  a  community  building.  He  desired  the  whole  settlement  to 
be  planned  in  advance  by  agricultural  experts,  with  the  land  pre- 
pared and  planted  and  with  house  designs  available  for  quick,  whole- 
sale construction.  Around  the  village  area  Mead  desired  subsistence 
homesteads  of  two  or  three  acres  for  farm  laborers,  eliminating  the 
problems  of  migrant  labor.  After  settlement  he  desired  expert 
direction  by  agricultural  experts.  For  the  village  he  recognized  the  pos- 
sibilities of  handicrafts  or  small  industries.  He  desired  some  modifica- 
tion of  land  tenure  in  order  to  insure  that  the  settler  would  remain 
on  his  land,  although  he  believed  that  this  would  conflict  with  the 
American  psychology.  Finally,  he  wanted  a  long  purchase  contract, 
with  terms  up  to  forty  years,  as  well  as  credit  for  improvements 
and  equipment,  all  this  to  be  secured  by  a  large  initial  down  pay- 
ment and  by  a  very  careful  selection  of  settlers.17 

18  Mead,  "Government  Aid  and  Direction  in  Land  Settlement,"  pp.  72—75, 
82-85. 

"Mead,  Helping  Men  Own  Farms,  pp.  187-191;  Howe,  "Land  Settlement  and 
the  Soldier,"  p.  427. 


46  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

As  the  Australian  land  settlements  proved  successful,  at  least  at 
first,  Mead  became  more  and  more  desirous  of  introducing  the  same 
methods  into  the  United  States.  In  1914  he  visited  the  University 
of  California  and  discussed  his  ideas  with  the  president  of  the  uni- 
versity, the  dean  of  the  College  of  Agriculture,  and  the  governor 
and  lieutenant  governor  of  California.  Hiram  W.  Johnson,  the  reform 
governor  of  California,  along  with  the  others,  believed  that  it  would 
be  possible  to  adapt  Mead's  type  of  settlement  to  the  state  of  Cali- 
fornia, but  not  until  public  opinion  was  educated  to  accept  what  was 
so  radical  a  change  in  policy.  The  educational  campaign  was  launched 
through  the  influential  Commonwealth  Club  of  California,  to  which 
Mead  outlined  his  ideas  in  May,  1914.  In  1915  Elwood  Mead  re- 
turned permanently  from  Australia  to  head  a  state-appointed  Com- 
mission on  Colonization  and  Rural  Credits  and  to  resume  his  teach- 
ing at  the  University  of  California.  The  report  of  the  commission, 
under  Mead's  direction,  was  entirely  in  favor  of  California's  develop- 
ing a  model  farm  settlement  of  approximately  10,000  acres.  The  pro- 
posal, based  on  extensive  studies  of  existing  settlement  plans,  was 
sharply  debated  in  the  Commonwealth  Club.  It  was  defended  as  a 
remedy  for  speculation  and  for  all  the  human  tragedies  that  had  re- 
sulted on  past  irrigation  projects  because  of  inadequate  preparation, 
lack  of  guidance  and  supervision,  absence  of  credit,  lack  of  settler 
selection,  and  inadequate  safeguards  against  tenancy.  It  was  vigor- 
ously opposed  as  an  attack  on  meritorious  land  agents  and  private 
colonization  companies,  as  governmental  competition  with  business, 
as  destructive  of  democracy,  as  not  recognizing  the  inefficiency 
and  destructive  tendencies  always  present  in  government,  as  sub- 
sidized competition  against  farmers,  as  the  type  of  paternalism  that 
leads  to  a  shirking  of  responsibility,  as  against  the  American  tradi- 
tion of  free  and  independent  farmers,  and  as  subversive  of  the  native 
spirit  of  liberty  which  had  led  to  the  universal  superiority  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race.18 

In  1917  the  California  legislature  accepted  the  recommendation 
of  Mead  and  his  commission  and  enacted  the  first  land  settlement 
act  in  United  States  history.  It  followed  very  closely  a  Victoria,  Aus- 

18  "Unemployment,"  Transactions  of  the  Commonwealth  Club  of  California,  IX 
(1914),  682-684;  "The  Land  Settlement  Bill,"  ibid.,  X  (1915),  83;  "Land  Settle- 
ment in  California,"  ibid.,  XI  (1916),  369-373,  397-398,  404-405,  427-428;  "The 
Land  Settlement  Bill  of  1917,"  ibid.9  XII  (1917),  12-16,  24-29,  33-39. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  47 

tralia,  law  of  1909  and  included  almost  all  of  Mead's  treasured  ideas, 
providing  an  initial  appropriation  of  $260,000  to  begin  a  10,000-acre 
project.19  Mead  became  chairman  of  the  Land  Settlement  Board  which 
was  created  to  implement  the  act.  The  board  established  the  first 
project  at  Durham,  Butte  County,  on  6,239  acres  of  carefully  selected 
and  surveyed  land,  which  was  divided  into  approximately  110  farm 
allotments  and  30  farm  laborers'  allotments.  The  College  of  Agricul- 
ture of  the  University  of  California  helped  in  the  project,  making 
surveys  and  classifying  soils.  America  had  never  before  seen  what 
happened  at  Durham.  The  happy  settler  was  greeted  with  fields  of 
growing  wheat,  by  an  architect  with  varying  house  designs,  and  by 
a  permanent  farm  adviser  and  business  manager.  The  homes,  which 
included  electricity  and  running  water,  were  quickly  constructed  at 
wholesale  prices.20  The  settlers,  carefully  selected  by  Mead's  Land 
Settlement  Board,  were  judged  on  character  and  past  farming  ex- 
perience. Each  settler  could  purchase  his  land  with  only  a  5  per  cent 
down  payment,  with  the  rest  payable  in  twenty  years  at  5  per  cent 
interest,  along  with  additional  loans  for  his  house  and  farm  equip- 
ment. Until  paid  for,  the  land  could  not  be  sold  without  the  board's 
approval.  The  colonist  had  to  remain  on  his  land  for  eight  months 
out  of  twelve  for  the  first  ten  years,  a  requirement  that  was  not  as 
far-reaching  as  Mead  had  desired.21 

The  Durham  Colony  early  appeared  to  be  a  great  success.  By 
1919  the  state  had  appropriated  an  additional  $1,000,000  for  land 
settlement  and  had  slightly  amended  the  original  act  to  give  prefer- 
ence to  returning  soldiers.  In  1919  the  second  colony,  Delhi,  was 
launched  with  even  greater  enthusiasm  than  had  been  Durham,  per- 
haps because  Delhi  was  planned  for  returning  soldiers.  Commissions 
and  official  delegates  from  more  than  forty  foreign  countries  and 
one-half  of  the  states  visited  the  two  colonies.22  In  Colorado,  North 

19  Mead,  Helping  Men  Own  Farms,  pp.  32,  108. 

20  California   Department   of  Agriculture,    Division   of   Land   Settlement,   Final 
Report,  June  30,  1931   (Sacramento,  1931),  pp.  3,  27;  Elwood  Mead,  "Buying  a 
Farm  in  the  New  Way:   The  Success  of  California's  New  Plan,"  Ladies  Home 
Journal,  XXXVI  (June,  1919),  37. 

21  Mead,  Helping  Men  Own  Farms,  pp.  215-228,  and  "Government  Aid  and 
Direction,"  pp.  78-79;  Elwood  Mead,  "The  New  Forty  Niners,"  Survey,  XLVII 
(1921-1922),  653-654. 

22  Mead,  "The  New  Forty  Niners/'  pp.   651,  654;   California  Department  of 
Agriculture,  Final  Report,  p.  27. 


48  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Carolina,  and  South  Carolina  similar  state  projects  were  contem- 
plated but  never  completed.  In  Arizona,  Washington,  Minnesota,  and 
South  Dakota  projects  were  actually  begun,  but  all  were  unsuccess- 
ful. In  fact,  all  did  not  remain  well  in  California.  The  minimum 
security  for  such  expensive  developments  as  Durham  and  Delhi  was 
destroyed  by  the  farm  depression  beginning  in  1921.  Durham,  well 
launched  and  more  soundly  planned,  survived  without  complete 
disaster.23  In  1927  only  about  one-third  of  the  settlers  were  seriously 
delinquent  in  their  payments.24  Delhi  fared  much  worse.  Begun  in 
the  inflation  of  1919  and  managed  by  overzealous  employees  of  what 
was  referred  to  as  "the  academic  type,"  Delhi  succumbed  to  the  de- 
pression and  was  an  almost  complete  financial  loss  to  the  state.  After 
the  expensive  improvements,  such  as  a  $35,000  pipe  factory  and  a 
$10,000  community  hall,  many  of  the  settlers  had  to  pay  $400  an  acre 
for  their  land,  much  of  which  was  planted  in  fruit  trees  which  could 
not  bear  for  several  years.  By  1928  almost  one-half  of  Delhi's  8,400 
acres  were  unsold.25  By  1925  the  California  government,  which  had 
become  increasingly  hostile  to  farm  settlement  and  which  resented 
the  $1,000,000  already  apparently  lost  in  the  two  colonies,  was  ready 
to  withdraw  from  the  business  of  land  colonization  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Beginning  in  1928,  a  laborious,  involved,  and  embittering 
process  of  litigation  was  undertaken.  By  July,  1930,  the  State  of 
California  had  finally  effected  a  settlement  with  the  colonists  at 
Durham  and  Delhi.  Mead,  who  had  dreamed  of  four  or  five  colonies 
each  year  in  California,  had  to  admit  certain  mistakes  at  Delhi,  mis- 
takes for  which  he  blamed  the  unpredicted  depression,  a  hostile 
governor,  and  irresponsible  colonists,  but  not  the  ideas  that  went  into 
the  colonies.26 

The  ideas  of  Elwood  Mead  quickly  spread  to  Washington,  giving 

23  Bertha  Henderson,  "State  Policies  in  Agricultural  Settlement,"  Journal  of  Land 
and  Public  Utility  Economics,  II  (1926),  290-291;  William  A.  Hartman,  "State 
Policies  in  Regulating  Land  Settlement  Activities,"  Journal  of  Farm  Economics, 
XIII  (1931),  261-262. 

24  California  Department  of  Agriculture,  Final  Report,  p.  9. 

'  "The  State  Colony  Settlements,"  Transactions  of  the  Commonwealth  Club  of 
California,  XVI  (1921),  262-263,  267;  Hartman,  "State  Policies  in  Regulating 
Land  Settlement  Activities,"  p.  261. 

26  "What  of  the  Colony  Plan  of  Land  Settlement?"  Agricultural  Review,  XVIII 
(April,  1925),  16-17;  California  Department  of  Agriculture,  Final  Report,  pp. 
11—15. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  49 

form  to  a  settlement  plan  already  developed  in  the  Department  of 
Labor.  As  early  as  1915,  Secretary  of  Labor  William  B.  Wilson  pro- 
posed a  new  role  for  the  federal  government.  He  believed  that  the 
Department  of  Labor  not  only  should  seek  jobs  for  the  unemployed, 
but  should  create  jobs  through  such  utilization  of  the  natural  re- 
sources as  would  "tend  to  make  opportunities  for  workers  greater 
than  demands  for  work  and  to  keep  them  so." 27  He  believed  this 
possible,  without  a  revolution,  by  properly  using  the  public  lands. 
His  program,  as  then  outlined,  was  general  in  nature.  The  public 
domain  should  be  retained  and  enlarged  by  the  purchase  of  unused 
private  lands.  Farm  lands  should  be  allotted  to  unemployed  laborers, 
with  such  tenure  arrangements  as  would  prevent  inflated  land  values. 
Finally,  the  settlers  would  be  supplied  credit,  farming  education, 
and  marketing  services.  This  program,  he  believed,  would  take  the 
place  of  the  antiquated  homestead  law  and  the  frontier  safety  valve 
as  a  permanent  relief  for  industrial  distress.28  In  the  reports  of  the 
Department  of  Labor  for  1916,  1917,  and  1918,  Wilson  again  urgently 
advocated  his  plan,  especially  as  a  means  of  caring  for  the  employ- 
ment needs  of  the  returning  soldiers.29  His  most  comprehensive 
recommendation  was  for  a  permanent  national  board  to  carry  out  a 
resources  development  and  colonization  program,  with  duties  even 
more  comprehensive  than  those  of  Mead's  California  Land  Settle- 
ment Board.  It  was  proposed  as  a  permanent  source  of  employment, 
eliminating  the  distress  of  depressions.30 

Secretary  Wilson's  colonization  scheme  was  introduced  into  Con- 
gress in  1916  by  Representative  Robert  Grosser  of  Ohio.  The  Grosser 
colonization  bill  provided  for  a  colonization  board,  headed  by  the 
Secretary  of  Labor,  but  including  the  Secretaries  of  Agriculture  and 
the  Interior.  In  order  to  create  employment  for  the  urban  unemployed, 

27  Department  of  Labor,  Annual  Report,  1915  (Washington,  1916),  p.  44. 

28  Ibid.,  pp.  43-44. 

29  Department  of  Labor,  Annual  Report,  1916  (Washington,  1917),  p.  73,  An- 
nual Report,  1917  (Washington,  1918),  p.  153,  and  Annual  Report,  1918  (Washing- 
ton, 1919),  pp.  145-146,  222-224. 

30  Benton  Mackaye,  "Making  New  Opportunity  for  Employment,"  in  U.S.  Depart- 
ment of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  Monthly  Labor  Review,  VIII  (1919), 
1067-1068;  Benton  Mackaye,  Possibilities  of  Making  New  Opportunities  for  Em- 
ployment through  the  Settlement  and  Development  of  Agricultural  and  Forest 
Lands  and  Other  Resources  (U.S.  Department  of  Labor;  Washington,  1919),  pp. 
19-21,  2&-33. 


50  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  board  was  to  be  empowered  to  examine  and  acquire  land  for 
farm  colonies,  either  by  purchase  or  by  reserving  public  lands.  After 
acquisition  a  detailed  colonization  plan  was  to  be  submitted  to  the 
President.  The  land  in  the  developed  colonies  was  to  be  permanently 
retained  by  the  United  States,  with  settlers  acquiring  leases  only  on 
land  which  they  personally  needed  for  the  support  of  their  families. 
If  desired,  two  or  more  families  could  combine  their  land  for  co- 
operative farming.  The  lease  would  require  a  payment  of  4  per  cent 
of  the  development  cost  each  year,  for  fifty  years,  and  an  additional 
payment  in  lieu  of  taxes.  The  bill  provided  for  a  beginning  coloniza- 
tion fund  of  $50,000,000.  The  colonies  were  to  be  of  a  community 
type,  with  public  services  and  government  aid  to  co-operatives.31  The 
Grosser  bill,  which  anticipated  so  much  of  the  New  Deal  community 
program,  was  defended  by  labor  interests  in  a  congressional  hearing 
but  was  never  referred  for  a  vote.32 

The  widespread  desire  to  provide  opportunities  for  the  returning 
soldiers  of  World  War  I  provided  the  ideal  setting  for  Elwood  Mead 
to  secure  a  national  policy  of  directed  land  settlement  and  rural 
planning.  He  found  an  idealistic  and  effective  ally  in  Franklin  K. 
Lane,  Secretary  of  the  Interior.  According  to  Mead,  it  was  partly  be- 
cause of  an  invitation  from  Lane  that  he  returned  from  Australia  to 
the  United  States  in  1915.33  In  1918  Mead  left  his  California  settle- 
ments to  join  Lane  in  Washington,  where  he  worked  in  the  reclama- 
tion section  of  the  Department  of  the  Interior.  Together,  Lane  and 
Mead  planned  and  promoted  a  scheme  for  soldier  settlement  that, 
for  a  period  of  over  two  years,  was  to  secure  national  acclaim  and 
widespread  publicity. 

On  May  31,  1918,  Secretary  Lane  sent  a  much-publicized  letter 
to  President  Wilson  in  which  he  proposed  a  national  soldier  settlement 
program.  In  the  past  returning  soldiers  had  received  bounties  in  land. 
Although  no  frontier  existed  in  1918,  Lane  believed  that  the  soldiers 
of  World  War  I,  acclimated  to  an  out-of-doors  existence,  would  still 
want  opportunities  to  go  on  farms,  not  in  the  old  pioneer  fashion, 

31  House  Committee  on  Labor,   Hearings  on  H.R.   11329,   National  Coloniza- 
tion Bill,  64th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1916,  pp.  5-10. 

32  Ibid.,  pp.  10-11,  23,  31,  41-42,  51-65. 

33  Senate  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  S.  2015,  Crea- 
tion of  Organized  Rural  Communities  to  Demonstrate  the  Benefits  of  Planned 
Settlement,  70th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1928,  p.  7. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  51 

but  in  the  new,  Mead-developed  methods  of  colonization,  with  pre- 
development,  security,  and  community  life.  These  opportunities  could 
be  provided  by  a  large-scale  reclamation  program,  extending  beyond 
arid  lands  to  the  swamps  and  cutover  lands  of  every  state  in  the 
Union.  The  soldiers  could  cease  killing  enemies  and  start  develop- 
ing resources,  at  the  same  time  creating  their  own  future  homes.  It 
all  should  be  done,  said  Lane,  upon  "a  definite  planning  basis,"  each 
project  being  as  carefully  planned  as  "the  city  of  Washington." 34 
The  plan  was  endorsed  by  Woodrow  Wilson,  who  saw  in  it  a  part  of 
the  enlarged  public  works  program  proposed  by  the  Department  of 
Labor.  In  one  of  his  last  statements,  Theodore  Roosevelt  vigorously 
defended  the  idea.35 

Franklin  K.  Lane  combined  Jeffersonian  agrarianism  with  a  con- 
cept of  enlarged  governmental  responsibility.  He  believed  it  time 
that  the  nation  provide  not  merely  soldiers,  but  every  man  in  the 
United  States,  an  opportunity  for  employment.36  In  the  Department 
of  the  Interior,  Lane  was  most  interested  in  "locking-forward  work" 
or  in  so  planning  for  the  future  as  to  prevent  in  America  "those  ills 
which  have  fallen  upon  other  lands."  37  This  looking  forward  was,  to 
Lane  as  to  Mead,  primarily  concentrated  upon  the  agricultural  situation. 
To  Lane,  the  "spirit  of  democracy  does  not  thrive  where  men  live 
without  the  hope  of  land  ownership.  There  is  something  peculiarly 
subtle  in  the  feeling  that  a  bit  of  the  soil  is  one's  own.  It  makes  for 
a  stronger,  higher  citizenship.  It  gives  birth  to  loyalties  that  are  es- 
sential to  national  life  and  to  a  healthy  home  life."  38  To  be  assured 
a  living,  as  farmers  are,  is  at  the  very  center  of  "the  free  life  of  a 
democracy."  The  soldiers,  used  to  a  life  of  doing,  of  close  companion- 
ship, of  suffering,  would  return  as  men,  not  boys.  According  to  Lane 
they  would  want  a  man's  life  on  returning,  or  a  chance  to  make  their 
way  on  a  farm.  But  they  would  not  want  the  lack  of  society,  the 
distance  between  homes,  the  remote  post  office  and  newspaper,  and 

34  Department  of  the  Interior,  Annual  Report  for  the  Fiscal  Year  Ended  June 
30,  1918  (Washington,  1919),  pp.  24-29. 

35  Senate  Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  Work  and  Homes  for  Returning  Sol- 
diers, Sailors,  and  Marines,  Report  no.  780  to  accompany  S.  5652,  65th  Cong., 
3d  Sess.,  1919,  pp.  6-7. 

66  Ibid.,  p.  30. 

87  Department  of  the  Interior,  Annual  Report,  June  30,  1918,  p.  3. 

"Ibid.,  p.  11. 


52  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  poor  schools  of  most  rural  life.  The  longing  in  the  heart  for  con- 
tact with  the  soil  had,  because  of  these  adverse  conditions,  often 
turned  to  a  passion  for  the  city.  The  only  solution  to  the  problem, 
according  to  Lane,  was  to  develop  a  new  rural  life  with  all  the  urban 
advantages — in  fact,  to  marry  the  two.  He  believed  that  the  United 
States  should  turn  to  the  farm  village,  as  Europe  had,  or  to  settle- 
ment around  a  community  center  which  could  contain  the  advantages 
of  city  life.  Co-operation  could  banish  isolation;  there  could  be  motion 
pictures  and  baseball  teams,  and  "there'll  be  a  dance  every  week  in 
the  community  house."  39  Lane  summed  up  his  dreams  in  the  follow- 
ing picture:  "all  these  farms — which  shall  not  be  large,  but  large 
enough  to  support  a  man,  his  wife,  and  three  or  four  children,  but 
not  large  enough  to  make  a  basis  of  speculation — small  farms,  in- 
tensively cultivated,  sufficient  for  a  man  and  his  family;  with  a  cen- 
tral community,  and  that  community  having  the  telephone,  and  good 
roads,  and  the  telegraph  and  the  post  office,  and  the  good  school, 
and  the  bank,  and  the  good  store  all  close  together,  so  that  the  women 
can  talk  across  the  back  fence  and  the  man  can  meet  his  neigh- 
bors." 40 

Lane's  soldier  settlement  idea  resulted  in  a  full-scale  national  de- 
bate. As  individuals  and  through  the  Department  of  the  Interior, 
Lane  and  Mead  continued  to  be  the  spokesmen  for  the  measure,  de- 
fending it  as  a  means  of  saving  the  labor  market  from  collapse,  of 
stopping  the  alarming  movement  of  people  to  the  cities,  of  develop- 
ing American  resources,  and  of  setting  up  throughout  the  United 
States  examples  of  the  most  modern  patterns  of  farm  settlement.41 
Frederic  Howe  wrote  a  book  to  raise  support  for  the  plan,  fervently 
defending  it  as  a  step  toward  economic  democracy  in  America.42  The 
American  Legion  endorsed  the  measure,  as  could  be  expected.43  As 

39  Henry  Irving  Dodge,   "Back  to  the  Land  for  Soldiers:    An  Interview  with 
Franklin  K.  Lane,  Secretary  of  the  Interior,"  Country  Gentleman,  LXXXIV  (Feb. 
15,  1919),  46. 

40  Franklin  K.  Lane,  "Bringing  Unused  Land  into  Service,"  American  City,  XX 
(1919),  318. 

41  Department  of  the  Interior,  Annual  Report,  June  30,  1918,  p.  6. 
^Frederic  C.  Howe,  The  Land  and  the  Soldier  (New  York,  1919),  pp.  5-13. 
43  House  Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  National  Soldier  Settlement  Act,  Re- 
port no.  216  to  accompany  H.R.  487,  66th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1919,  p.  10. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  53 

always  when  reclamation  measures  were  proposed,  the  farmers  and 
farm  organizations  were  the  largest  element  in  opposition.  A  repre- 
sentative of  the  National  Grange  branded  the  soldier  settlement  idea 
as  "fundamentally  un-American,  un-democratic,  undesirable,  and  inde- 
fensible." He  believed  it  "paternalistic,  socialistic,  communistic,  bolshe- 
vistic, or  anything  of  that  kind."  He  asked  why  the  soldiers  had  to  be 
set  up  to  compete  with  farmers;  why  not  in  manufacturing  or  busi- 
ness? Then  all  the  city  people  would  not  back  it  so  strongly.44  Senator 
James  W.  Wadsworth  of  New  York  cited  the  then  hated  Germans 
as  an  example  of  the  products  of  the  government  paternalism  that 
was  implied  in  the  Lane  proposal.  He  declared  the  whole  scheme  a 
fizzle,  a  publicity  stunt  to  attract  the  soldiers  who  wanted  something 
for  nothing.45  Perhaps  the  most  important  opinion  should  have  been 
that  of  the  soldier.  By  an  eye-catching  booklet  entitled  Hey  There! 
Do  You  Want  a  Home  on  the  Farm?  Lane  tried  to  arouse  the  soldiers' 
interest,  although  his  method  was  later  severely  criticized.  From 
900,000  of  these  booklets,  which  included  return  postal  cards,  Lane 
received  119,000  cards  and  65,000  letters,  almost  all  favorable  or 
interested.46 

At  least  a  dozen  soldier  settlement  measures  were  introduced  into 
Congress.  Only  the  first  of  these,  a  bill  that  appropriated  $200,000 
for  a  preliminary  investigation  of  the  public  lands  available  for 
soldier  settlement,  ever  passed  both  houses.47  The  most  important 
bill,  introduced  by  Representative  Frank  W.  Mondell  of  Wyoming, 
was  in  part  written  by  Elwood  Mead  and  was  very  similar  to  the 
California  Land  Settlement  Act.  It  provided  for  federal-state  co- 
operation and  a  beginning  appropriation  of  $500,000,000.48  Soldier 
settlement  bills  were  extensively  debated  in  committee  hearings,  were 

44  House  Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  Hearings  on  H.R.  487,  Homes  for 
Soldiers,  Part  1,  66th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1919,  pp.  72-74. 

40  House  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  H.R.  11171 
and  H.R.  12083,  Aided  and  Directed  Settlement  on  Proposed  Government  Irriga- 
tion Projects,  68th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1925,  p.  47;  lames  W.  Wadsworth,  "Land 
Settlement  Problems  to  Be  Solved  by  Self-Help  and  Not  by  Government  Paternal- 
ism/' Sea  Power,  Nov.,  1919,  pp.  237-239. 

46  U.S.  House  of  Representatives,  Farms  for  Soldiers,  House  Document  no.  173, 
66th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1919,  pp.  1-2. 

47C.R.,  65th  Cong,  2d  Sess.,  1918,  pp.  11590-11592. 

48  House  Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  Hearings  on  H.R.  487,  pp.  3-7,  27. 


54  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

reported  favorably  by  both  Senate  and  House  committees,  and  one 
bill  was  passed  in  the  House  in  1920.49  A  surviving  version  was  in- 
corporated into  a  bonus  bill  that  was  eventually  vetoed  by  President 
Harding.50  The  only  substantial  reward  granted  to  soldiers  was  a 
sixty-day  homestead  privilege  on  all  public  lands  open  to  entry.51 
Thirty-seven  states  passed  some  type  of  soldier  settlement  legisla- 
tion, but  almost  all  of  these  bills  were  dependent  upon  federal  action. 
Except  for  Delhi,  the  only  notable  soldier  settlement  was  in  con- 
junction with  an  agricultural  training  program  for  disabled  veterans  at 
the  University  of  Minnesota  and  under  the  sponsorship  of  the  Veterans' 
Administration.52  The  twenties  were  to  show  that  the  need  for  small 
farm  development  was  not  great  enough  to  sustain  the  early  public 
interest.  Even  the  soldiers  preferred  cash  bonuses  to  farming  op- 
portunities.53 

Even  though  soldier  settlement  failed  in  Congress,  Elwood  Mead's 
prestige  did  not  suffer  greatly,  for  he  was  still  the  most  prominent 
irrigation  authority  in  the  United  States.  As  such  his  talents  were 
not  tied  to  politics.  Moreover,  the  first  object  of  his  reforming  zeal, 
the  Reclamation  Service,  was  still  in  existence,  operating  under  the 
virtually  unchanged  Newlands  Act  of  1902.  But  in  the  twenties  the 
old  reclamation  program  proved  inadequate.  With  the  farm  recession 
that  began  in  1921  and  lasted  throughout  the  twenties,  many  settlers 
on  irrigation  projects  suffered  financial  distress,  requiring  a  series  of 
leniency  acts  to  relieve  them  of  monthly  payments  to  the  govern- 
ment. These  moratoriums  prejudiced  the  whole  future  of  reclamation, 

49  C.R.,  65th  Cong.,  3d  Sess.,  1919,  pp.  4855,  4856;  ibid.,  66th  Cong.,  1st  Sess., 
1919,  pp.  4370,  4375;  House  Committee  on  the  Public  Lands,  National  Soldier 
Settlement  Act,  Report  no.  216,  p.  7,  and  Hearings  on  H.R.  487,  pp.  17-18;  Golze, 
Reclamation  in  the  United  States,  p.  368. 

50  U.S.    Senate,   Forestry,   Reclamation,   and   Home-making   Conference,   1923, 
Document  no.  120,  68th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1923,  p.  14. 

51  House  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  H.R.  520,  Set- 
tlement of  Returning  Veterans  on  Farms  in  Reclamation  Projects,  79th  Cong.,  1st 
Sess.,  1945,  pp.  90-91. 

52  Department  of  the  Interior,  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  "Nation-wide  Approval 
of  Secretary  Lane's  Soldier-Settlement  Plan,"  Reclamation  Record,  X  (1919),  pp. 
195-196;  U.S.  Veterans'  Bureau,  Annual  Report  of  the  Director  for  the  Year  End- 
ing June  30,  1922  (Washington,  1922),  p.  322;  Hartman,  "State  Policies  in  Regu- 
lating Land  Settlement,"  p.  262. 

53  House  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  H.R.  520,  pp. 
216-217. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  55 

which  was  already  under  attack  because  of  mounting  agricultural 
surpluses.54  In  1923  Secretary  of  the  Interior  Hubert  Work  ap- 
pointed a  special  fact-finding  committee  to  investigate  the  whole 
reclamation  program  and  report  their  findings.  One  of  the  seven 
members  of  this  committee  was  Elwood  Mead,  who  had  again  been 
in  Australia  and  in  Palestine  as  a  reclamation  consultant  of  the  British 
Government.55 

The  report  (called  the  Fact  Finders'  Report)  of  the  special  com- 
mittee opened  a  new  era  for  reclamation  in  the  United  States.  The 
report  was  obviously  much  influenced  by  Mead's  ideas,  for  it  advo- 
cated his  type  of  settlement  and  stressed  human  factors  as  well  as 
engineering  techniques.  In  brief,  the  committee  advocated  govern- 
ment-developed projects,  long-term  credit,  directed  and  supervised 
agriculture,  and  a  careful  selection  of  settlers.56  In  April,  1924,  Secre- 
tary Work  appointed  Elwood  Mead  as  Commissioner  of  the  newly 
created  Bureau  of  Reclamation  (the  old  Reclamation  Service),  a 
position  that  he  was  to  retain  until  his  death  in  1936.  As  Commis- 
sioner, Mead  tried  to  implement  the  Fact  Finders'  Report  and  to  re- 
orientate the  bureau  toward  a  greater  consideration  of  human  values.57 
Congress  refused  to  implement  all  of  the  committee's  recommenda- 
tions, rejecting  bills  for  aided  and  directed  settlement  in  1925  and 
1928.58  It  did  pass  an  act  in  1926  that  permitted  a  careful  selection 
of  settlers  by  a  Board  of  Examiners.59  The  failure  of  Congress  to  ap- 
prove any  further  revision  in  reclamation  policy  can,  in  part  at 
least,  be  attributed  to  the  hostility  of  agricultural  groups  and  even 
to  the  open  hostility  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  But  as  Com- 
missioner, Mead  had  the  honor  of  planning  some  of  the  largest  recla- 
mation projects  in  the  world,  including  Hoover  Dam  on  the  Colorado 

64  Lampen,  Economic  and  Social  Aspects  of  Federal  Reclamation,  p.  61. 

55  U.S.  Department  of  the  Interior,  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  "Special  Advisors 
Continue  Reclamation  Analysis,"  Reclamation  Record,  XV  (Jan.,  1924),  p.  3. 

56  U.S.  Department  of  the  Interior,  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  "Impending  Reclama- 
tion Disaster  May  Be  Averted,"  Reclamation  Record,  XV  (May,  1924),  pp.  68-69. 

57  Elwood   Mead,   "What   Federal   Reclamation  Should   Include,"   Agricultural 
Engineering,  VII  (1926),  237. 

58  House  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  H.R.  11171 
and  H.R.  12083,  pp.  1-3,  4-19,  37-87,  and  Hearings  on  H.R.  9956,  Aided  and 
Directed  Settlement  on  Government  Irrigation  Projects,  70th  Cong.,   1st  Sess., 
1928,  pp.  1-2,  68-64. 

59  Mead,  "What  Federal  Reclamation  Should  Include,"  p.  238. 


56  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

(the  lake  was  named  for  him)  and  Grand  Coulee  on  the  Columbia. 
Although  Mead  could  not  get  his  settlement  ideas  incorporated 
into  the  regular  reclamation  program,  he  found  extensive  support 
for  planned  agricultural  settlements  in  the  South.  After  the  failure 
of  soldier  settlement,  which  would  have  meant  projects  in  the  swamp- 
lands of  the  South,  many  Southerners  continued  to  seek  an  expan- 
sion of  reclamation  to  the  South.  In  December,  1924,  Congress  au- 
thorized an  appropriation  of  $15,000  to  be  used  by  Secretary  Work 
and  the  Bureau  of  Reclamation  in  investigating  the  possibilities  of 
developing  arid,  semiarid,  swamp,  and  cutover  lands.  Work  used  this 
small  sum  to  investigate  opportunities  in  the  South,  sending  a  special 
advisory  committee  that  was  accompanied  by  Elwood  Mead.60  These 
advisers  called  for  experimental  farm  colonies  in  every  Southern 
state.  Except  for  the  lack  of  irrigation,  each  was  to  resemble  Durham 
and  Delhi.  It  was  hoped  that  the  colonies,  which  were  to  include 
farmers  and  farm  laborers,  would  demonstrate  the  value  of  a  planned, 
diversified  agriculture  to  an  agriculturally  backward  South.  In  1927 
a  congress  of  representative  Southerners  met  with  Mead  in  Washing- 
ton to  study  the  plans,  and  Southern  congressmen  introduced  ap- 
propriate bills  in  each  house  of  Congress.  These  bills,  which  in  most 
details  anticipated  the  rural  resettlement  communities  of  the  New 
Deal,  were  reported  favorably,  but  never  came  to  a  vote.61  President 
Coolidge  opposed  them  as  being  against  his  economic  policy.62  Two 
of  the  most  loyal  advocates  of  these  Southern  colonies,  Senator  John 
H.  Bankhead  and  Representative  William  B.  Bankhead  of  Alabama, 
were  later  to  lead  the  legislative  fight  for  subsistence  homesteads 
communities. 

60  U.S.  Senate,  Proceedings  of  the  Southern  Reclamation  Conference,  p.  iii;  U.S. 
Department  of  the  Interior,  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  Reclamation  and  Rural  De- 
velopment in  the  South,  in  House  Document  no.  765,  pt.  i,  69th  Cong.,  2d  Sess., 
1927,  p.  2. 

61  U.S.   Department  of  the  Interior,  Bureau  of  Reclamation,   Reclamation  and 
Rural  Development  in  the  South,  pp.   1-3,  38;  U.S.  Senate,  Proceedings  of  the 
Southern  Reclamation  Conference,  pp.  iv,  1-5,  8-15;  Senate  Committee  on  Irriga- 
tion and  Reclamation,  Hearings  on  S.  2015,  pp.  1-3;  House  Committee  on  Irriga- 
tion and  Reclamation,  Creation  of  Organized  Rural  Communities,  Report  no.  1217 
to  accompany  H.R.  8221,  70th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1928,  pp.  1-8;  C.R.,  70th  Cong., 
1st  Sess.,  1928,  p.  9353. 

62  House  Committee  on  Irrigation  and  Reclamation,  Creation  of  Organized  Rural 
Communities,  p.  8. 


Bringing  Town  to  Country  57 

As  reclamation  became  increasingly  unpopular  in  the  twenties, 
its  advocates  were  forced  into  a  dilemma  not  of  their  own  choosing. 
In  1918,  with  booming  agricultural  prices  and  a  seemingly  inex- 
haustible foreign  market,  reclamation  and  the  more  intensive  farm- 
ing it  required  seemed  almost  a  necessity.  But  during  the  twenties 
the  prices  dropped  and  the  market  fell.  The  advocates  of  reclamation, 
mostly  from  the  Western  states,  and  the  bitter  foes  of  reclamation, 
mostly  Midwestern  or  Eastern  farmers,  were  alike  influenced  by  their 
own  selfish  interests.  Nevertheless  the  Midwestern  farmers  were  more 
in  line  with  reality.  Whether  because  of  the  lingering  exuberance  of  a 
young,  rapidly  expanding  nation  or  because  of  a  failure  to  compre- 
hend the  implications  of  ever-newer  advances  in  technology,  many 
Americans  had  difficulty  in  adjusting  to  the  idea  of  a  surplus  economy. 
Yet  it  already  existed  in  agriculture,  which  has  a  much  more  rigid 
ceiling  of  demand  than  most  other  industries.  Despite  Elwood  Mead's 
laudable  application  of  economics  to  reclamation  and  despite  all  his 
human-centered  planning,  the  inescapable  fact  remained  that,  from 
the  viewpoint  of  the  over-all  economy,  further  expensive  reclamation 
projects  could  not  be  justified  by  any  need  for  increased  agricultural 
production.63  In  fact,  the  reclamation  projects  were  having  a  demon- 
strably  harmful  effect  on  farm  prices.  Thus,  during  the  twenties  a 
sizable  departmental  conflict  developed  between  the  Departments 
of  Agriculture  and  the  Interior.  The  farm  economists,  from  a  large, 
national  view  of  economic  trends,  constantly  deplored  any  new  farm 
development  and  questioned  the  logic  of  more  emphasis  upon  the 
small  farm.  They  even  referred  to  the  proposed  Southern  colonies  as 
beginning  steps  toward  economic  peonage.64  It  was  not  that  the  agri- 
culturalists questioned  Mead's  emphasis  on  planning,  but  rather  that 
they  questioned  the  ability  of  the  Department  of  the  Interior  to  plan 
for  agriculture.  They  believed  that,  from  a  national  viewpoint,  a 
planned  reduction  of  farming  acreage  and  production,  not  further 
development,  was  demanded.  Henry  C.  Wallace,  as  Secretary  of 
Agriculture  in  1924,  bitterly  stated  the  farmers'  opposition  to  reclama- 

63  Frank  P.  Willits,  "The  Futility  of  Further  Development  of  Irrigation  Projects," 
Anna/5  of  the  American  Academy,  CXLII  (1929),  186-195. 

04  Millard  Peck,  "Reclamation  Projects  and  Their  Relation  to  Agricultural  De- 
pression," Annals  of  the  American  Academy,  CXLII  (1929),  179-180,  184-185; 
Louis  J.  Taber,  "Reclamation  in  Dollars  and  Sense,"  Nations  Business,  XVI  ( Sept., 
1928),  69. 


58  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion:  "Reclamation  policies  should  grow  out  of  public  needs  and  agri- 
cultural possibilities  and  not  out  of  the  dreams  of  engineers  or  the 
ambitions  of  empire  builders  who  wish  to  'develop  the  country'  usually 
for  the  benefit  of  their  own  pocketbooks  and  at  the  expense  of  the 
hungry  home  seeker."  65 

To  an  optimistic,  growing  America,  Elwood  Mead  had  proclaimed 
a  new  type  of  magic — the  magic  of  governmental  planning  and  or- 
ganization. This  magic,  freely  applied  to  the  development  of  rural 
communities,  was  to  bring  salvation  to  a  declining  agriculture  and, 
indirectly,  to  a  whole  nation.  Although  the  magic  did  not  always 
work  well  when  tried,  as  in  California,  it  retained  a  tremendous 
appeal  for  many  people.  Mead's  work  in  community  building,  un- 
fortunately for  him,  was  always  connected  with  the  reclamation  and 
development  of  new  agricultural  resources.  But  Mead's  magic  was 
not  necessarily  tied  to  expansion,  to  optimism,  to  development,  to 
reclamation.  In  the  New  Deal  it  was  to  be  utilized  in  subsistence 
homesteads  communities  that  were  born  in  deepest  pessimism  over 
the  economic  future  of  America.  A  little  later  it  was  to  be  applied, 
in  purest  form,  to  rural  resettlement  communities  that,  at  least  theoreti- 
cally, were  to  complement  a  large  program  of  land  retirement  and 
population  displacement. 

65  Henry  C.  Wallace,  "A  National  Agricultural  Program — A  Farm  Management 
Problem,"  Journal  of  Farm  Economics,  VI  (1924),  6-7. 


X  III 


Bringing  the  Country  to  the  Town 


EVEN  as  Elwood  Mead  was  applying  the  magic  of  planning  to 
rural  problems,  an  ever-growing  number  of  people  in  the  cities  were 
attempting  to  apply  the  same  magic  to  urban  problems.  By  1900  a 
few  urbanites  were  decrying  narrow  streets  and  unhealthy  slums 
and  were  demanding,  among  other  reforms,  some  public  control  over 
future  urban  growth,  as  well  as  the  imposition  of  some  plan  or  pat- 
tern on  past  unregulated  development.  Thus  the  group  of  emerging 
city  planners  were  confronted  with  problems  never  faced  by  Elwood 
Mead,  for  in  the  case  of  his  reclamation  projects  the  planning  agency 
owned  and  controlled  the  land  area  to  be  developed.  But  even  in 
urban  expansion  the  city  planning  agency  usually  did  not  own  the 
land  and  had  to  persuade  or  legally  compel  private  individuals  to 
conform  to  the  public  interest  as  reflected  in  development  plans.  Ex- 
cept for  limited  land  purchases  by  the  municipal  government,  any 
attempts  to  remedy  past  mistakes  in  city  growth  immediately  con- 
fronted entrenched  private  interests.  Faced  with  these  difficult  prob- 
lems, city  planners,  or  city  patchers,  were  usually  too  concerned  with 
the  purely  spatial  or  physical  planning  of  streets  and  buildings  to 
give  much  time  to  the  smaller  details  of  social  planning,  such  as  co- 
operation, economic  security,  and  a  healthy  social  intercourse,  that 
typified  much  of  Mead's  rural  planning.  Even  as  Mead,  on  the  rural 
scene,  had  turned  from  the  problems  of  past  misplanning  to  the  freer, 

59 


60  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

more  appealing  adventure  of  constructing  small  models  of  a  new  agri- 
cultural order,  a  few  city  planners  turned  from  the  frustrating  prob- 
lems of  the  older  cities  to  the  exhilarating  task  of  building  completely 
new  and  more  perfect  towns  or  suburban  communities,  each  com- 
bining the  spaciousness  and  beauty  of  the  country  with  the  social 
and  economic  advantages  of  the  city.  These  latter  planners  greatly 
influenced  the  New  Deal  communities,  particularly  the  greenbelt 
towns. 

Just  as  Elwood  Mead's  crusade  for  guided  and  directed  settlement 
was  an  attempt  to  resurrect  an  established  policy  of  colonial  New 
England,  so  the  new  emphasis  on  city  planning  marked  the  rebirth 
of  a  lost  art  in  America,  for  in  colonial  times  there  had  been  notable 
examples  of  city  planning.  A  zoning  law  for  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
Colony  was  passed  under  William  and  Mary.  Savannah  and  Phila- 
delphia were  carefully  planned  by  their  proprietary  founders.1  This 
planning  emphasis  was  still  potent  enough  to  influence  George  Wash- 
ington and  Thomas  Jefferson  to  co-operate  in  the  planning  of  a  beauti- 
ful national  capital  which  still  remains  a  proud  monument  to  the 
use  of  foresight  in  the  laying  out  of  cities.  Jefferson  carefully  studied 
European  cities  and  dutifully  brought  back  from  Europe  the  plans  of 
eleven  cities,  mostly  French.  Unfortunately  more  Washingtons,  more 
carefully  planned  cities,  were  not  forthcoming.  For  some  reason  nine- 
teenth-century cities  grew  without  objectives  or  conscious  direction. 
Like  Jefferson's  ideas  on  controlled  land  settlement,  city  planning 
also  disappeared  in  the  rush  to  conquer  a  continent.  American  cities 
just  grew,  and  the  results  were  as  unfortunate  as  those  of  an  uncon- 
trolled rural  development. 

Soon  after  the  Civil  War,  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  the  pioneer  of 
modern  American  city  planners,  began  using  vision  and  skill  in  plan- 
ning parks  and  thoroughfares,  with  Central  Park  in  New  York  City 
his  best-known  monument.2  In  1869  plans  were  developed  for  two 
completely  new  towns,  Riverside,  Illinois,  and  Garden  City,  Long 
Island.  Garden  City  marked  the  first  use  of  a  term  which  was  later 
to  have  a  very  definite  and  significant  meaning  in  city  planning. 
Alexander  T.  Stewart,  a  New  York  department  store  owner,  acquired 
8,000  acres  on  Long  Island  where,  by  the  time  of  his  death  in  1876, 

1  Thomas  Adams,  Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning  (New  York,  1935),  p.  120. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  167. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  61 

he  had  created  a  truly  spacious  village  of  102  homes.  Garden  City 
later  received  national  fame  as  the  site  of  a  large  publishing  house.3 
Before  1900  several  small  towns  and  villages  were  carefully  planned, 
including  the  single-tax  colony  of  Fairhope,  Alabama,  and  the  indus- 
trial villages  of  Pullman,  Illinois;  Sparrowspoint,  Maryland;  Vander- 
grift,  Pennsylvania;  and  Hopedale,  Massachusetts.4  In  1893  the  beauti- 
ful White  City  exhibit  at  the  Chicago  World's  Fair  led  to  a  revival 
of  interest  in  city  beautification  and  in  the  civic  possibilities  that  had 
been  neglected  in  a  period  of  rapid  industrialization.  Just  before  1900 
L'Enfant's  original  plan  of  Washington  was  rediscovered,  leading  to 
a  revival  of  the  plan  by  a  newly  appointed  District  Park  Commis- 
sion.5 During  the  next  few  years  a  score  of  advisory  city  plans  were 
drawn  for  cities  throughout  the  country  by  such  emerging  planners 
as  John  Nolen,  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  Daniel  Burnham,  and  Charles 
M.  Robinson.6  Just  as  the  century  turned,  the  English  garden  city 
added  a  new  perspective  to  American  city  planning. 

The  garden  city  idea,  which  was  originated  by  Ebenezer  Howard, 
an  evangelical  but  nonviolent  London  reformer  and  court  reporter, 
was  quickly  adopted  and  implemented  in  England  by  technically 
qualified  city  planners.  The  idea  was  too  visionary  for  much  practical 
application  in  replanning  older  cities,  but  inspired  the  design  of  new 
towns  or  additions  and  eventually  provided  the  pattern  for  the  green- 
belt  communities  of  the  New  Deal.  Howard  was  influenced  by  the 
social  enthusiasm  engendered  in  England  by  the  Fabians,  by  Ruskin's 
economic  ideas,  by  the  Christian  Social  Union  and  the  settlement 
house  movement,  and  by  the  ideas  of  Henry  George,  Robert  Owen, 
and  Edward  Bellamy.  In  a  book  published  in  1898  Howard,  utilizing 
city  plans  or  colonization  schemes  developed  by  James  Silk  Bucking- 
ham, Alfred  Marshall,  Edward  G.  Wakefield,  Sir  Titus  Salt,  George 
Cadbury,  and  William  H.  Lever,  proposed  an  appealing  marriage 

3  Thomas  Adams,  "The  Planning  and  Subdivision  of  Land,"  in  Neighborhood 
and  Community  Planning,  vol.  VII  of  Regional  Survey  of  New  York  and  Its 
Environs  (New  York,  1929),  pp.  257-258. 

4  Adams,  Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  pp.  168,  177-178. 

5  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  "The  Town  Planning  Movement  in  America,"  Annals 
of  the  American  Academy,  LI  (1914),  179. 

6  Theodora  Kimball  Hubbard  and  Henry  Vincent  Hubbard,  Our  Cities  Today 
and  Tomorrow:  A  Survey  of  Planning  and  Zoning  Progress  in  the  United  States 
(Cambridge,  Mass.,  1929),  pp.  5-6. 


62  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

of  town  and  country  by  the  construction  of  a  city  that  would  be  lim- 
ited in  size  by,  and  organically  related  to,  an  encircling  belt  of  rural 
countryside.7  Howard  believed  that  crowded,  slum-infested  cities  were 
an  evil,  but  from  a  visit  to  a  farm  in  Nebraska,  Howard  had  also  dis- 
covered the  trials  of  an  isolated,  unco-operative  rural  life.  Thus  he 
wished  to  combine  the  magnetic  attractions  of  both  city  and  country 
by  combining  the  higher  wages,  employment  opportunities,  social  ad- 
vantages, and  well-lit  streets  of  the  cities  with  the  beauty  of  nature, 
fresh  air,  low  rents,  bright  sunshine,  woods,  meadows,  and  forests 
of  the  country.8 

To  combine  city  and  country  Howard  proposed  the  development 
of  a  completely  new  garden  city  in  a  rural  setting.  In  order  to  realize 
all  of  his  ideas,  Howard  proposed  that  the  land  for  both  the  city 
and  the  surrounding  greenbelt  be  owned  by  trustees  who,  as  owners, 
would  be  able  to  develop  a  carefully  planned,  spacious,  well-rounded 
industrial  city  of  a  limited  size,  set  in  the  midst  of  prosperous  farm 
land.  The  city  would  reap  the  health  benefits  and  aesthetic  rewards 
of  nearby  forests  and  farms,  and  the  equally  fortunate  farmers  would 
have  the  ready  market  and  social  pleasures  of  a  nearby  town.  The 
rapidly  rising  value  of  the  land,  occasioned  by  a  growing  city,  Howard 
believed,  would  result  in  ground  rents  sufficient  to  cover  all  develop- 
ment costs  and,  with  the  original  investors  receiving  only  a  limited 
dividend  as  profit,  would  also  pay  for  all  municipal  services.  Thus 
the  city  dwellers  as  a  whole,  and  not  a  few  speculators,  would  re- 
ceive the  benefits  of  the  social  increment.9 

As  a  model  for  a  garden  city  Howard  proposed  a  schematic,  circu- 
lar town  plan  that  was  probably  too  unrealistic  to  be  of  any  value. 
But  the  principles  underlying  the  garden  city  idea  became  permanent 
attributes  of  garden  city  planning  in  England  and  all  over  the  world. 
The  garden  city  was  to  be  a  method  of  decentralizing  both  industry 
and  population.  It  was  to  be  a  city  of  limited  size,  eternally  pro- 

7  Dugald  Macfadyen,  Sir  Ebenezer  Howard  and  the  Town  Planning  Movement 
(Manchester,  Eng.,  1933),  pp.  12,  18,  20-21,  33;  James  Silk  Buckingham,  Na- 
tional Evils  and  Practical  Remedies  (London,  1849),  pp.  110-135;  James  Dahir, 
Communities  for  Better  Living  (New  York,  1950),  p.  110;  Frederic  J.  Osborn, 
Green-Belt  Cities:  The  British  Contribution  (London,  1946),  p.  176;  Adams, 
Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  pp.  270-271. 

8 Ebenezer  Howard,  Garden  Cities  of  Tomorrow  (3d  ed.;  London,  1902),  pp. 
13-17. 

9  Ibid.,  pp.  20-22,  28-29;  Osborn,  Green-Belt  Cities,  p.  27. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  63 

hibited  from  sprawling  growth  by  its  greenbelt.10  The  plan  of  the 
city  would  be  enforceable  through  the  very  effective  expedient  of  a 
unified  or  community  ownership  of  all  the  land.  All  private  homes, 
all  industry,  and  all  businesses  were  to  be  constructed  on  leased  land, 
with  certain  prescribed  building  agreements  written  into  the  leases. 
As  Howard  conceived  it,  a  garden  city  would  be  a  balanced  city  of 
about  30,000  people,  including  laborers,  capitalists,  professional  peo- 
ple, and  businessmen.  Except  for  Howard's  desire  that  the  city  control 
retail  outlets  in  the  interest  of  the  consumer,  the  business  life  of  a 
garden  city  was  to  be  very  similar  to  that  of  any  other  town.11  Howard 
envisioned  a  rapid  growth  of  garden  cities.  They  were  to  be  units 
in  a  new  civilization,  replacing  slum-infested  cities  with  beautiful 
home  towns,  with  parks  and  gardens,  surrounded  by  green  farms.  If 
followed  resolutely,  this  new  path  to  reform  would  "lead  society  to 
a  far  higher  destiny  than  it  has  ever  yet  ventured  to  hope  for," 
Howard  believed.12  It  would  be  the  key  "to  a  portal  through  which, 
even  when  scarce  ajar,  will  be  seen  to  pour  a  flood  of  light  on  the 
problems  of  intemperance,  of  excessive  toil,  of  restless  anxiety,  of 
grinding  poverty — the  true  limits  of  Government  interference,  ay, 
and  even  the  relations  of  man  to  the  Supreme  Power."  13  To  Howard, 
garden  cities  alone  could  develop  better,  healthier  housing  conditions, 
lead  to  a  higher  purchasing  power  for  labor,  provide  everyone  with 
the  amenities  of  life,  and  give  cultural  advantages  to  agriculture. 

Ebenezer  Howard  never  thought  of  his  garden  city  idea  as  a  specu- 
lative utopia.  Rather,  he  saw  it  as  the  foundation  of  a  new  civiliza- 
tion which  could  be  realized  only  as  his  ideas  bore  practical  results. 
Through  his  book  and  public  lectures  Howard  found  ready  support 
for  garden  cities.  After  one  year  of  personal  campaigning  Howard 
formed  the  Garden  City  Association  in  June,  1899.  Supported  early 
by  single  taxers  and  soon  thereafter  by  businessmen,  the  association 
became  the  nucleus  of  the  city  planning  movement  in  England  and 
rapidly  raised  enough  support  to  construct  the  first  garden  city.  In 
April,  1903,  a  3,818-acre  (later  increased  to  4,500  acres)  plot  of  land 
was  purchased  in  Hertfordshire.  Here,  under  the  direction  of  a 
limited-dividend  company,  the  first  garden  city,  Letchworth,  was  be- 

10  Osbom,  Green-Belt  Cities,  pp.  32-33. 

"Howard,  Garden  Cities,  pp.  72,  76-79.  M Ibid.,  p.  115. 

13  Ibid.,  p.  13. 


64  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

gun  in  October,  1903. 14  Although  Howard  remained  the  evangel 
of  garden  cities,  Letchworth  was  planned  by  two  technically  qualified 
architects,  Raymond  Unwin  and  Barry  Parker.  Unwin,  Parker,  and  the 
first  secretary  of  the  Garden  City  Association,  Thomas  Adams,  were 
to  become  world  famous  as  city  planners.  The  plan  of  the  city  of 
Letchworth,  which  was  adapted  to  an  undulating  terrain,  included 
large  open  spaces  for  parks  and  playgrounds.  The  industrial  areas 
were  placed  on  the  edge  of  town  and  separated  from  residential 
areas  by  strips  of  forest  land.  The  development  company  retained 
freehold  possession  of  the  land,  both  in  the  city  and  in  the  3,000-acre 
greenbelt,  and  leased  it  to  individuals  or  corporations  on  99-  or  990- 
year  leases.15  Letchworth  grew  slowly  but  steadily  into  a  mixed  in- 
dustrial city  of  22,000  people  in  1947.  Departing  only  slightly  from 
the  ideas  of  Howard,  it  became  a  world-famous  model  of  new  city 
planning  techniques.  In  1919,  under  the  personal  initiative  of  Howard, 
a  second  garden  city,  Welwyn,  was  begun.  Financed  by  government 
loans,  Welwyn  grew  more  rapidly  than  Letchworth  and  exhibited  a 
greater  architectural  unity.16  Though  many  of  the  ideas  have  been 
widely  copied,  Letchworth  and  Welwyn  remain  until  this  day  the 
only  true  garden  cities  (as  Howard  defined  the  term). 

The  visual  demonstration  of  Ebenezer  Howard's  ideas  at  Letch- 
worth led  to  a  world-wide  garden  city  movement.  In  its  idealism 
appealing  to  the  broadest  public,  as  well  as  to  city  planners,  the 
garden  city  movement  led  to  a  virtual  renaissance  of  city  planning  in 
England.  By  1909  the  Garden  City  Association  had  become  a  town 
planning  organization  with  an  emphasis  on  new  towns  of  the  garden 
city  type.  From  all  over  the  world  it  received  inquiries  about  Letch- 
worth or  about  city  planning.17  In  1914  the  International  Federation 

14  Macfadyen,  Sir  Ebenezer  Howard,  pp.  25,  39;  Frederic  J.  Osborn,  "Planning 
in  Great  Britain:  The  Part  of  Voluntary  Societies,"  Journal  of  the  American  In- 
stitute of  Planners,  XIV  (Summer,  1948),  22-23;  Charles  B.  Purdom,  The  Garden 
City:  A  Study  in  the  Development  of  a  Modern  Town  (London,  1913),  p.  31. 

15  Sir  Edgar  Bonham  Carter,  "Garden  Cities  and  Satellite  Towns  and  Decen- 
tralization," Journal  of  the  Town  Planning  Institute,  XVI   (Nov.,   1929),   14-18; 
Purdom,  The  Garden  City,  pp.  291-293. 

16  Frederic  J.  Osborn,  "New  Towns  in  Britain,"  Journal  of  the  American  In- 
stitute of  Planners,  XIII  (Winter,  1947),  7-8;  Macfadyen,  Sir  Ebenezer  Howard, 
pp.  101—102;  Dahir,  Communities  for  Better  Living,  p.  117. 

17Ewart  G.  Culpin,  Garden  City  Movement  Up-to-Date  (London,  1914),  p.  17; 
Purdom,  The  Garden  City,  pp.  298-299. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  65 

for  Town  and  Country  Planning  and  Garden  Cities  was  formed,  with 
societies  in  most  European  countries,  in  the  British  Dominions,  and 
in  the  United  States.18  It  was  to  remain  the  most  important  interna- 
tional city  planning  organization.  In  England  and  in  other  countries 
the  creation  of  Letchworth  led  to  a  flurry  of  so-called  garden  cities, 
garden  villages,  or  garden  suburbs.  None  of  these  were  true  garden 
cities,  according  to  Howard's  definition,  but  each  utilized  at  least 
one  garden  city  principle.  The  promiscuous  use  of  the  term  "garden 
city"  led  Howard  and  others  to  make  unavailing  attempts  to  halt 
the  confusion  by  more  careful  definitions.  By  1913  there  were  over 
fifty  developments  in  England  which  reflected  garden  city  ideas.19 
The  final  vindication  for  Howard  came  in  the  influence  of  garden 
cities  on  English  national  policy,  despite  Howard's  greater  faith  in 
private  philanthropy.  In  a  succession  of  laws  England  moved  toward 
a  national  city  planning  and  housing  program  which  reflected 
Howard's  emphasis  on  a  unified  landownership,  decentralized  small- 
town development,  and  low-priced  housing  for  industrial  workers.  In 
England  this  trend  culminated  in  1946  and  1947  in  the  virtual  aboli- 
tion of  private  land  development  and  in  the  adoption  of  the  garden 
city  or  new  towns  idea  for  reconstructing  a  war-torn  England.  Long 
before  this  Sir  Ebenezer  Howard  (he  was  knighted  in  1927  in  recog- 
nition of  his  work  for  garden  cities )  had  died  in  his  beloved  Welwyn.20 
The  garden  city  idea,  which  was  not  to  find  complete  expression  in 
the  United  States  until  the  appearance  of  the  greenbelt  communities 
of  the  New  Deal,  caused  a  flurry  of  excitement  after  it  became  gen- 
erally known  in  the  United  States,  but  at  first  did  not  seriously  affect 
the  developing  city  planning  movement.  Garden  cities  were  too  vis- 
ionary for  men  who  were  laboring  to  patch  up  the  mistakes  of  past 
misplanning  in  our  older  cities.  But  as  a  result  of  the  publicity  given 
to  Letchworth  in  popular  magazines,  many  private  individuals  were 
impressed  with  Howard's  idealism.  In  1906  a  Garden  City  Associa- 

18  Ebenezer  Howard,  "A  Greeting  from  the  President  of  the  International  Federa- 
tion," City  Planning,  I  (1925),  31. 

10  Culpin,  Garden  City  Movement,  pp.  1-2,  19-47. 

20 James  W.  R.  Adams,  Modern  Town  and  Country  Planning  (London,  1952), 
pp.  34,  46-50,  51-52,  56,  66-71,  117;  "The  British  Town  and  Country  Planning 
Bill,  1947,"  Journal  of  the  American  Institute  of  Planners,  XIII  (Winter,  1947), 
27-28  (reprinted  from  an  article  in  the  Economist,  Jan.  11,  1947);  Macfadyen, 
Sir  Ebenezer  Howard,  p.  158. 


66  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion  of  America  was  formed  by  William  D.  P.  Bliss,  an  Episcopal 
minister  and  Christian  Socialist;  August  Belmont,  a  New  York  banker; 
Bishop  Henry  C.  Potter  of  the  Episcopal  Church;  Elgin  R.  L.  Gould, 
president  of  the  City  and  Suburban  Homes  Company,  an  enterprise 
designed  to  improve  the  living  environment  of  New  York  wage  earn- 
ers; and  other  interested  individuals.  It  gave  highly  idealistic  support 
to  the  garden  city  idea  but  limited  itself  to  advising  industrialists  on 
how  to  apply  garden  city  principles  to  their  planned  villages.  Bliss 
reported  projects  in  five  states,  but  none  even  closely  resembled 
Letchworth  or  Welwyn.21  For  the  more  realistic  professional  planners, 
the  main  progress  was  in  planning  for  the  older  cities.  In  1909  the 
first  great  advisory  plan  was  adopted  by  Chicago.  On  the  sponsoring 
committee  for  the  plan  was  Frederic  A.  Delano,  whose  advocacy 
of  planned  cities  was  later  an  inspiration  to  his  nephew,  Franklin 
D.  Roosevelt,  and  who  was,  in  the  New  Deal,  to  head  the  National 
Resources  Committee,  our  first  national  planning  agency.22  In  1909 
the  first  national  conference  of  city  planners  convened  in  Washington. 
In  this  and  subsequent  conferences  the  city  planners  heard  detailed 
reports  on  the  English  garden  cities,  but  were  more  interested  in  the 
possibilities  of  zoning  legislation.23  In  a  milestone  in  city  planning, 
New  York  City  adopted  a  comprehensive  zoning  law  in  1916.  Zoning 
was  finally  upheld  by  the  Supreme  Court  in  1926.24 

Before  1920  a  few  new  towns  were  planned  with  garden  city  at- 
tributes. In  1910  the  Russell  Sage  Foundation,  a  long-time  supporter 
of  better  city  planning,  financed  a  model  residential  suburb  in  New 
York  City,  Forest  Hills  Gardens,  which  was  advertised  as  a  garden 
city.25  In  1912  Torrance,  California,  was  described  by  its  industrialist 
founder,  Jared  S.  Torrance,  as  the  "greatest  and  best  of  the  garden 
cities  of  the  world."26  In  1914  a  small  suburb  near  Boston,  Billerica 

21  Royal  Meeker,  review  of  Garden  Cities  of  Tomorrow,  by  Ebenezer  Howard, 
Municipal  Affairs,  VI  ( 1902),  287-290;  "The  Garden  City  Association  of  America," 
Charities  and  the  Commons,  XVII  (1906-1907),  286;  "Garden  Cities  in  America," 
ibid.,  XVIII  (1907-1908),  114. 

22  Adams,  Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  pp.  202-203. 

23  Senate  Committee  on  the  District  of  Columbia,  Hearings  on  City  Planning, 
in  Senate  Document  no.  422,  61st  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1909,  p.  79. 

24  Hubbard  and  Hubbard,  Our  Cities  Today  and  Tomorrow,  p.  7;  Stuart  A.  Mac- 
Corkle,  Municipal  Administration  (New  York,  1942),  p.  331. 

^"Garden   City  Platted   by  Russell   Sage   Foundation,"   Survey,   XXV    (1910- 
1911),  309-310. 
20  Dana  W.  Bartlett,  "Torrance,"  American  City,  IX  (1913),  311. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  67 

Garden  Suburb,  was  carefully  planned,  had  a  limited-dividend  cor- 
poration, and  encouraged  resident  co-operation.27  In  1916  John  Nolen, 
one  of  America's  foremost  city  planners,  designed  a  completely  new, 
diversified  industrial  town  at  Kingsport,  Tennessee,  with  rigid  zoning 
laws  but  no  greenbelt.28  Many  other  developments  used  the  name 
garden  city,  which  now  had  a  commercial  value,  but  as  yet  the  United 
States  did  not  have  even  a  close  approximation  of  Howard's  ideal 
city. 

In  1917  the  garden  city  idea  received  serious  congressional  atten- 
tion. Senator  Morris  Sheppard  of  Texas  secured  the  acceptance  of 
a  resolution  praising  the  garden  city  movement  and  requesting  a 
hearing  on  garden  cities  by  his  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  For- 
estry. The  hearings  led  to  no  legislation,  but  did  provide  the  Senators 
with  a  complete  picture  of  Letchworth  as  given  by  an  enthusiastic 
American  proponent  of  garden  cities.29  More  important,  in  World 
War  I  the  American  government,  for  the  first  time,  entered  the  field 
of  city  planning  and  public  housing.  Both  the  Emergency  Fleet  Cor- 
poration and  a  short-lived  United  States  Housing  Corporation  con- 
structed housing  for  defense  workers  and  used  planning  experts  and 
garden  city  methods  in  some  of  the  approximately  sixty  projects.  The 
infant  program  was  quashed  by  a  hostile  Congress  at  the  war's  end, 
despite  objections  from  planners  and  housing  experts.30 

In  the  twenties  city  planning  grew  more  than  in  all  previous 
decades.  State  after  state  passed  enabling  laws,  many  based  upon 
a  model  law  distributed  by  Herbert  Hoover's  Department  of  Com- 
merce. By  1929  over  650  municipalities  had  planning  commissions. 
Two-thirds  of  our  city  population  lived  under  zoning  ordinances. 
Planning  was  being  popularized,  planning  courses  were  taught  in 
many  public  schools,  professional  organizations  were  organized,  and 

27  Arthur  C.  Comey,  "Plans  for  an  American  Garden  Suburb,"  American  City, 
XI  (1914),  35-37. 

28  John  Nolen,  New  Towns  for  Old  (Boston,  1927),  pp.  50-65. 

29  Senate  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  Forestry,  Hearings  on  Garden  City 
Movement,  64th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1917,  pp.  2-14,  18,  33. 

30  Curtice  N.  Hitchock,  "The  War  Housing  Program  and  Its  Future,"  Journal 
of  Political  Economy,  XXVII  (1919),  241-277;  Sylvester  Baxter,  "The  Future  of 
Industrial  Housing,"  Architectural  Record,  XLV   (1919),  567;  Adams,  "Housing 
and  Social  Reconstruction,"  pp.  34—35;  "The  Fate  of  the  War-Housing  Projects," 
Housing  Problems  in  America:  The  Proceedings  of  the  Eighth  National  Conference 
on  Housing  (Bridgeport,  Conn.,  1920),  p.  327;  U.S.  Housing  Corporation,  Report, 
I  (Washington,  1920),  14,  and  Report,  II  (Washington,  1919),  23. 


68  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

professional  education  was  provided  at  Harvard,  at  Massachusetts 
Institute  of  Technology,  and  at  other  engineering  schools.  The  Ameri- 
can Municipal  League  and  the  American  Civic  Association  backed  the 
crusade  for  planning,  and  at  least  three  journals  provided  planning 
information  to  both  professional  and  lay  planning  boards  and  com- 
missions.31 

In  1922  the  most  ambitious  planning  effort  in  the  United  States 
before  the  New  Deal  was  initiated  in  New  York  City.  A  giant  ad- 
visory regional  plan  for  the  whole  New  York  metropolitan  area  was 
developed  by  a  private  planning  committee  supported  by  the  Russell 
Sage  Foundation.  Frederic  A.  Delano  was  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee; Thomas  Adams,  Ebenezer  Howard's  first  secretary  in  the 
Garden  City  Association,  was  general  director  of  plans  and  surveys. 
Most  eminent  American  planners  contributed,  and  French  and  Eng- 
lish planners  submitted  suggestions.  The  great  project  culminated 
in  the  publication  of  a  ten-volume  survey  and  plan,  which  contained 
literally  hundreds  of  suggestions.  Among  these  was  one  by  Adams 
proposing  several  garden  cities  in  the  New  York  metropolitan  area.32 
The  garden  city  idea  also  received  new  prestige  in  1925  when  the 
International  Federation  for  Town  and  Country  Planning  and  Garden 
Cities  met  in  New  York  with  Ebenezer  Howard  and  Sir  Raymond 
Unwin  in  attendance.  Howard,  who  helped  organize  support  for  an 
American  garden  city,  was  received  along  with  other  planners  at  the 
White  House  by  President  Coolidge.33 

The  most  significant  support  in  the  twenties  for  American  garden 
cities,  as  well  as  for  planning  in  a  broad  regional  perspective,  came 
from  the  Regional  Planning  Association,  an  informal  association  of 
talented  and  influential  city  planners,  economists,  social  philosophers, 
and  conservationists  who  first  began  meeting  together  in  1923.  Its 
membership  included  Lewis  Mumford,  a  social  philosopher  and 

31  Adams,  Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  pp.  247-249;  Hubbard  and  Hub- 
bard,  Our  Cities  Today  and  Tomorrow,  pp.  3,  20,  88-97. 

32  Staff  of  the  Regional  Plan  of  New  York  and  Its  Environs,  Regional  Plan,  vol.  I 
(New  York,  1929),  pp.  12-13,  126-127;  Thomas  Adams,  The  Buildings  of  the 
City  (New  York,  1931;  published  as  vol.  II  of  the  Regional  Plan  of  New  York), 
pp.  568-571;  Thomas  Adams,  Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  p.  233,  and 
"The  Planning  and  Subdivision  of  Land,"  pp.  254-256;  Thomas  Adams,  "Plan- 
ning for  Civic  Betterment  in  Town  and  Country,"  American  City,  XV  (1916),  51. 

33  George  B.  Ford,  "The  International  City  and  Regional  Planning  Conference," 
City  Planning,  I  (1925),  124;  "Common  Welfare,"  Survey,  LIV  (1925),  337-338. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  69 

planner;  Stuart  Chase,  an  economist;  Charles  H.  Whitaker,  editor  of 
the  Journal  of  the  American  Institute  of  Architects;  Frederick  L. 
Ackerman,  a  New  York  architect  and  city  planner;  Clarence  S.  Stein 
and  Henry  Wright,  a  successful  team  of  city  planners;  Benton  Mac- 
kaye,  a  forester,  conservationist,  and  wilderness  expert;  Robert  D. 
Kohn,  who  had  worked  with  the  housing  program  of  the  Emergency 
Fleet  Corporation  and  who  would  later  direct  the  Public  Works  Ad- 
ministration in  the  New  Deal;  and  Alexander  Bing,  later  president 
of  the  City  Housing  Corporation  of  New  York  City.34  Both  Stein 
and  Ackerman  had  visited  England  and  studied  the  garden  cities 
firsthand.  Under  a  New  York  law  secured  in  1923  by  Governor  Alfred 
E.  Smith,  himself  a  convinced  planner,  Stein  and  Wright  completed 
America's  first  state-wide  advisory  regional  plan.35  In  1925  the  members 
of  the  association,  along  with  Governor  Smith  and  Charles  B.  Purdom 
of  Letchworth,  authored  a  special  regional  planning  issue  of  the 
Survey,  advocating  garden  cities  and  broad  regional  plans  in  the 
nature  of  the  later  Tennessee  Valley  Authority.36  Lewis  Mumford 
summarized  one  aspect  of  the  work  of  the  association  as  follows: 
"Finally,  had  it  not  been  for  the  ideas  that  the  Regional  Planning 
Association  .  .  .  had  put  into  circulation  during  the  twenties,  the 
Greenbelt  Towns  undertaken  by  the  Re-settlement  Administration  in 
1935  would  have  been  inconceivable."  37 

In  1924,  with  the  encouragement  of  the  Regional  Planning  Asso- 
ciation, Bing  formed  a  limited-dividend  City  Housing  Corporation 
for  the  express  purpose  of  constructing  America's  first  garden  city. 
The  first  project,  Sunnyside  Gardens  in  New  York  City,  was  only  a 

34  Lewis  Mumford,  "Introduction"  to  Clarence  S.  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns  for 
America  (Liverpool,  Eng.,  1951),  pp.  3-15. 

35  New  York  Times,  April  23,  1925,  p.  9. 

30  See  the  following  articles  in  Survey,  vol.  LIV  (1925):  Lewis  Mumford,  "The 
Fourth  Migration,"  pp.  130-133;  Clarence  S.  Stein,  "Dinosaur  Cities,"  pp.  134- 
138;  Frederick  L.  Ackerman,  "Our  Stake  in  Congestion,"  pp.  141-142;  Stuart 
Chase,  "Coals  to  New  Castle,"  pp.  143-146;  Lewis  Mumford,  "Regions — To  Live 
In,"  pp.  151-152;  Benton  Mackaye,  "The  New  Exploration,"  pp.  153-157;  Al- 
fred E.  Smith,  "Seeing  a  State  Whole,"  p.  158;  Henry  Wright,  "The  Road  to  Good 
Houses,"  pp.  165-168;  Charles  B.  Purdom,  "Garden  Cities — What  They  Are  and 
How  They  Work,"  pp.  169-172;  Alexander  M.  Bing,  "Can  We  Have  Garden  Cities 
in  America?"  pp.  172-173. 

37  Lewis  Mumford,  "Introduction"  to  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns  for  America, 
p.  15. 


70  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

trial  run,  since  the  city  conditions  prohibited  a  garden  city.38  Then, 
in  1927,  Bing's  corporation  purchased  1,350  acres  in  Bergen  County, 
New  Jersey,  for  the  future  city  of  Radburn,  which  was  to  be  the 
closest  approximation  of  an  American  garden  city  before  the  green- 
belt  towns  of  the  New  Deal.  Radburn  was  planned  by  Stein  and 
Wright  in  consultation  with  Unwin,  Ackerman,  Thomas  Adams,  and 
other  garden  city  planners.  Only  partially  completed  because  of  the 
depression,  which  forced  Bing's  corporation  into  receivership,  Rad- 
burn was  designed  as  a  self-contained  industrial  community  pur- 
posefully planned  for  the  automobile  age,  with  pedestrian  under- 
passes, huge  forty-acre  blocks,  and  internal  parks.  By  the  plan,  a  person 
could  walk  through  most  of  the  town  by  way  of  the  interior  park  and 
without  crossing  a  single  street.  The  design  was  to  become  world 
famous;  but  Radburn  was  only  an  approach  to  a  complete  garden 
city.  Because  of  land  cost,  Bing  did  not  procure  a  greenbelt,  and, 
in  deference  to  American  custom,  the  lots  were  sold  rather  than 
leased.  Since  Radburn  remained  uncompleted,  industry  never  came 
and  the  residents,  in  un-garden-city-like  manner,  had  to  commute 
to  work.39 

The  same  depression  that  thwarted  the  private  plans  for  Radburn 
created  a  vast  new  interest  in  the  possibilities  of  public  planning. 
The  city  planning  movement  had  developed  the  techniques.  Now 
many  city  planners  were  prepared  to  shape  the  new  tomorrow,  to 
design  the  new  phoenix  which  was  sure  to  rise  from  the  ashes  of 
the  old.  In  Albany,  New  York,  Governor  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  had 
observed  the  past  work  of  the  planners  and  had  found  it  good.  In 
1932  he  commented  that  the  work  of  the  Regional  Plan  Committee 
of  New  York  City  had  "opened  our  eyes  to  new  vistas  of  the  future/' 40 
Roosevelt  wanted  to  extend  public  planning  to  the  country  and 
create  "wholly  new  rural  communities"  with  facilities  for  new  indus- 

38  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns  for  America,  pp.  21-32. 

3SIbid.,  pp.  21-32,  67;  National  Resources  Committee,  Urban  Planning  and 
Land  Policies  (Washington,  1939;  vol.  II  of  the  Supplementary  Report  of  the 
Urbanism  Committee  to  the  National  Resources  Committee),  pp.  97-99;  Adams, 
Outline  of  Town  and  City  Planning,  diagram  opposite  p.  232,  and  "The  Planning 
and  Subdivision  of  Land,"  pp.  265-266;  Dahir,  Communities  for  Better  Living, 
pp.  189-190. 

40  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  "Growing  Up  by  Plan,"  Survey,  LXVII  (1932),  507. 


Bringing  Country  to  Town  71 

tries.41  With  a  rural  rather  than  an  urban  emphasis,  Franklin  D. 
Roosevelt,  even  as  Ebenezer  Howard,  wanted  to  marry  the  city  to 
the  country.  He  wondered  "if  out  of  this  regional  planning  we  are 
not  going  to  be  in  a  position  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  in  the  im- 
mediate future  and  adopt  some  kind  of  experimental  work  based  on 
distribution  of  population."42  According  to  Roosevelt,  "we  have 
'growed  like  Topsy,'  we  must  grow  up  by  planning."  43  The  publica- 
tion of  the  Regional  Plan  of  New  York  led  Roosevelt  to  do  some 
characteristic  reminiscing  in  which  he  traced  his  thoughts  on  planning 
back  to  the  Chicago  plan  of  1909,  when  Charles  D.  Norton  and  his 
uncle,  Frederic  A.  Delano,  had  first  talked  to  him  about  city  planning: 
"I  think  from  that  very  moment  I  have  been  interested  in  not  the 
mere  planning  of  a  single  city  but  in  the  larger  aspects  of  planning. 
It  is  the  way  of  the  future."44  Roosevelt  gave  the  following  evalua- 
tion of  the  planning  movement  which  developed  after  1909:  "Out  of 
this  survey  initiated  by  Mr.  Norton  in  Chicago  has  developed  some- 
thing new;  not  a  science,  but  a  new  understanding  of  problems  that 
affect  not  merely  bricks  and  mortar,  subways  and  streets;  planning 
that  affects  also  the  economic  and  social  life  of  a  community,  then 
of  a  county,  then  of  a  state;  perhaps  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when 
planning  will  become  a  part  of  the  national  policy  of  this  country."  45 
Like  the  accomplishments  of  El  wood  Mead  and  others  in  rural 
planning,  the  work  of  the  city  planners,  and  particularly  those  inter- 
ested in  garden  cities,  provided  a  pattern  for  many  of  the  New  Deal 
communities.  Radburn,  New  Jersey,  was  a  prototype  of  the  greenbelt 
cities  and  other  suburban  communities  of  the  New  Deal.  Many  other 
of  the  New  Deal  communities,  and  particularly  the  subsistence  home- 
steads, combined  ideas  from  both  the  rural  and  urban  planners.  Many 
of  the  individuals  most  closely  connected  with  the  garden  city  move- 
ment, such  as  Clarence  Stein  and  Henry  Wright,  were  to  play  an 
active  role  in  the  development  of  the  greenbelt  cities.  In  a  larger 
sense,  the  concept  of  planning,  as  developed  in  the  limited  area  of 
a  city,  necessarily  had  to  be  extended  to  include  larger  and  larger 

41  Franklin   D.    Roosevelt,   "A   New   Rural  Planning,"   Rural  Government:    The 
Proceedings   of  the   Fourteenth   American   Country   Life   Conference    (Chicago, 
1932),  pp.  15-16. 

42  Roosevelt,  "Growing  Up  by  Plan,"  p.  506.  43  Ibid.,  p.  507. 
44 Ibid.,  p.  483.                                                "Ibid. 


72  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

areas.  Thus  many  city  planners  became,  in  the  New  Deal,  the  direc- 
tors of  national  planning  agencies,  Frederic  A.  Delano  being  a 
good  example  with  his  work  in  the  National  Resources  Committee. 
The  technically  qualified  city  planners,  despite  or  because  of  their 
idealism,  were  concerned  with  isolated  areas  or  single  aspects  of  the 
whole  economy.  They  had  the  needed  skills  for  their  respective  tasks 
and  frequently  combined  with  their  technical  skill  a  wide  grasp  of 
economic  and  social  problems;  yet  they  were  often  isolated  from  the 
making  of  truly  national  policies  or  from  the  understanding  of  national 
problems.  Exceptions  to  this  were  many  of  the  members  of  the  Re- 
gional Planning  Association,  who  were  not  strictly  city  planners  but 
economists,  social  philosophers,  or  reformers.  As  a  whole,  however, 
the  complete  background  of  the  New  Deal  communities,  which  were 
a  part  of  larger  planning  programs,  cannot  be  discovered  in  its  en- 
tirety in  the  movements  either  for  planned  land  settlement  or  for 
garden  cities,  although  much  of  the  impetus  for,  and  many  of  the 
policies  that  went  into,  the  communities  can  be  discovered  here.  The 
final  and  perhaps  most  important  source  of  the  New  Deal  communi- 
ties can  be  discovered  only  in  aspects  of  the  long  struggle  by  econo- 
mists and  others  to  get  the  federal  government  to  assume  a  more 
direct  responsibility  for  the  total  economy  of  the  nation,  or,  in  other 
words,  in  the  attempts  to  achieve  some  degree  of  national  economic 
planning. 


&  IV 


From  Acorn  to  Oak 


IN  September,  1877,  Richard  T.  Ely,  a  recent  graduate  of  Columbia 
University,  was  greeted  in  Halle,  Germany,  the  gateway  to  a  then 
typical  educational  pilgrimage,  by  an  awkward,  rural-mannered  Il- 
linois scholar  named  Simon  N.  Patten.  Both  young  men  were  in  Ger- 
many to  study  in  the  famous  universities.  Because  of  the  inspiration 
they  received  from  the  German  historical  school  of  economists,  both 
returned  to  America  with  a  thoroughgoing  distaste  for  conventional 
American  politics  and  religion,  as  well  as  for  the  archenemy,  English 
classical  economics.1  In  the  summer  of  1932  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  a 
former  student  of  Patten  and  a  member  of  the  "brain  trust"  of  Frank- 
lin D.  Roosevelt,  met  with  Milburn  L.  Wilson,  a  former  student  of 
Ely  and  a  farm  economist  from  Montana,  to  begin  mapping  a  pos- 
sible program  of  national  agricultural  planning.  Tugwell  was  already 
trying  to  steer  Roosevelt  ever  closer  to  full  commitment  on  national 
economic  planning.  The  advocacy  of  major  planning  policies  by 
Wilson  and  Tugwell  represented  the  fruition  of  ideas  and  policies 
advocated  soon  after  1877  by  Ely,  Patten,  and  a  few  other  economic 
rebels.  An  acorn  in  1877  was  about  to  become  a  full-grown  oak. 
When  this  occurred  in  the  New  Deal,  Tugwell  and  Wilson,  in  addition 
to  their  policy-making  influence  in  the  broad  fields  of  agricultural 
planning,  were  destined  to  shape  and  direct  the  community  program 
in  its  most  formative  years. 

"Richard  T.  Ely,  Ground  under  Our  Feet  (New  York,  1938),  pp.  38-40,  121. 

73 


74  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

In  1885  Patten,  Ely,  John  Bates  Clark,  Edmund  J.  James,  Henry 

C.  Adams,  and  other  economists  who  were  in  revolt  against  classical 
economic  theories  joined  to  form  the  American  Economic  Association 
and  to  ask  for  a  positive  economic  role  for  the  state.2  Uniting  ethical 
zeal  with  what  was  then  considered  economic  radicalism,  they  in- 
fluenced the  rising  social  gospel  movement,  the  movement  for  con- 
servation and  scientific  forestry,  and  the  multiple  reforms  of  the  pro- 
gressive era.  They  were  influenced  by  the  growth  of  the  American 
philosophy  of  pragmatism.  They  became   the   academic  fathers   of 
such  later  economists  as  Thorstein  Veblen,  John  R.  Commons,  and 
Tugwell.  Although  much  of  the  economic  philosophy  of  these  men 
was  reflected  in  various  New  Deal  programs,  it  was  their  influence 
on  agricultural  policy  that  most  clearly  affected  the  New  Deal  com- 
munities. 

As  a  professor  of  economics  at  the  University  of  Wisconsin,  Richard 
T.  Ely  became  interested  in  the  broad  problems  of  land  use.  Through 
his  influence  Henry  C.  Taylor,  one  of  his  students,  went  to  Europe 
to  study  land  economics.  A  few  years  after  Taylor's  return,  he  estab- 
lished a  Department  of  Agricultural  Economics  in  the  University  of 
Wisconsin  College  of  Agriculture  in  1909.3  Soon  the  students  of  Ely 
and  Taylor  were  acknowledged  experts  in  several  fields  of  agricul- 
tural economics:  Benjamin  H.  Hibbard  as  a  student  of  farm  tenancy 
and  public  land  policies,  Oliver  E.  Baker  in  land  classification  and 
population  statistics,  Lewis  C.  Gray  in  land-use  planning,  and  John 

D.  Black  in  the  whole  field  of  agricultural  policy.  In  1919  a  growing 
number  of  farm  economists  from  Wisconsin  and  other  universities 
united  to  form  the  American  Farm  Economic  Association.  Springing 
in  part  from  the  interest  created  by  Theodore  Roosevelt's  Country 
Life  Commission,  rural  sociology  became  a  recognized  specialty  at 
Wisconsin  in  1911  when  Taylor  asked  a  rural  minister,  Charles  J. 
Galpin,  to  become  the  first  teacher  in  the  new  field.  The  rural  so- 
ciologists founded  the  American  Country  Life  Association  in  1917.4 

2  Richard  T.  Ely,  "Report  of  the  Organization  of  the  American  Economic  As- 
sociation," Publications  of  the  American  Economic  Association,  I  (March,  1886), 
6. 

3  Leonard  A.   Salter,  Jr.,  A  Critical  Review   of  Research  in  Land  Economics 
(Minneapolis,  1948),  pp.  7-11. 

4  Liberty  Hyde  Bailey,  The  Country-Life  Movement  in  the  United  States  ( New 
York,  1913),  pp.  7-10;  Charles  J.  Galpin,  My  Drift  into  Rural  Sociology  (Baton 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  75 

By  that  date  the  work  begun  by  Ely  and  Taylor  was  beginning  to 
affect  national  agricultural  policies. 

Even  before  1917  William  J.  Spillman,  head  of  the  Office  of  Farm 
Management  in  the  Bureau  of  Plant  Industry  of  the  Department 
of  Agriculture,  had  studied  such  economic  problems  as  land  tenure, 
cost  accounting,  and  farm  records.  In  1918  he  asked  Henry  C.  Taylor 
to  come  to  Washington  and  help  reorganize  the  Office  of  Farm 
Management.  In  1919  Taylor,  Ely,  Oliver  E.  Baker,  and  Lewis  C. 
Gray  all  worked  on  a  committee  which  led  to  the  creation  of  the 
Division  of  Land  Economics  in  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  Under 
the  direction  of  Gray,  this  division  conducted  research  on  land 
utilization  and  classification,  on  tenure  problems,  and  on  problems 
in  land  settlement  and  colonization.5  In  1921  Henry  C.  Wallace,  Secre- 
tary of  Agriculture  under  Warren  G.  Harding,  appointed  Taylor  as 
the  head  of  a  newly  organized  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics. 
This  new  bureau  absorbed  the  Division  of  Land  Economics  and  in- 
cluded other  divisions  on  farm  management,  rural  sociology,  market- 
ing, and  statistics.  In  addition  to  Spillman  and  the  economists  from 
Wisconsin,  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  included  on  its 
staff  at  one  time  or  another  such  important  agricultural  figures  as 
Charles  J.  Brand,  Howard  Tolley,  and  Mordecai  Ezekiel.  In  the 
twenties  these  farm  economists  carried  out  extensive  research  projects 
in  land  economics  and  formulated  numerous  proposals  for  farm  relief. 
From  their  research  and  discussions  came  the  domestic  allotment 
system  and  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  of  the  New  Deal. 

Even  as  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  was  being  estab- 
lished at  Washington,  Richard  T.  Ely  was  motivating  several  private 
research  projects  in  land  economics.  In  connection  with  the  interest 
in  soldier  settlement  after  World  War  I,  two  of  Ely's  students,  Lewis 
C.  Gray  and  John  D.  Black,  completed  a  study  on  land  colonization 
in  the  Lake  States.6  In  1920  Ely  established  at  Wisconsin  the  In- 
stitute of  Land  and  Public  Utility  Economics  to  co-ordinate  research 

Rouge,  1938),  pp.  1&-19;  Proceedings  of  the  First  National  Country  Life  Con- 
ference (Baltimore,  1919),  pp.  1-5. 

5Salter,  A  Critical  Review,  pp.  13-17. 

6  John  D.  Black  and  Lewis  C.  Gray,  Land  Settlement  and  Colonization  in  the 
Great  Lakes  States  (U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture  Bulletin  no.  1295;  Washing- 
ton, 1925). 


76  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

in  the  broader  fields  of  land  economics  and  public  utilities.  Ely  be- 
lieved that  urban  and  rural  problems  were  closely  related  and  in  his 
institute  tried  to  bring  the  land  economists  and  city  planners  into  a 
closer  relationship.  The  institute  sponsored  a  few  major  research  proj- 
ects, financed  books,  and  published  a  journal.  Ely  himself  became  a 
member  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  City  Housing  Corporation, 
which  constructed  the  garden  city  at  Radburn,  New  Jersey.7  In  rural 
planning,  Ely  and  the  institute  backed  the  Fairway  Farms  experi- 
ment in  Montana,  which,  even  as  Radburn,  bore  a  close  relationship 
to  the  New  Deal  communities. 

From  experience  on  his  own  farm,  Henry  C.  Taylor  conceived  the 
idea  of  a  company  to  rejuvenate  farms  and  to  help  tenants  become 
owners.  By  1923  he  had  interested  Ely  and  the  institute,  as  well  as 
the  trustees  of  the  Laura  Spelman  Rockefeller  Foundation.  While 
in  Montana  in  1923,  Taylor  broached  the  idea  to  Milburn  L.  Wilson, 
an  old  friend  and  former  student  who  was  then  head  of  the  Rural 
Economics  Division  of  the  Montana  State  Agricultural  College.  They 
jointly  decided  to  make  the  experiment  in  Montana  and,  with  the 
approval  of  the  foundation  and  the  receipt  of  a  $100,000  loan  from 
John  D.  Rockefeller  at  5  per  cent  interest  (but  with  no  required 
repayment),  incorporated  Fairway  Farms  in  1924  to  administer  the 
funds.  Among  the  nine  directors  of  the  corporation  were  Ely,  Taylor, 
Wilson,  Leon  C.  Marshall,  head  of  the  Department  of  Political  Econ- 
omy at  the  University  of  Chicago,  and  Chester  C.  Davis,  then  com- 
missioner of  agriculture  and  labor  in  Montana.  Being  on  the  scene, 
Wilson  became  secretary  and  managing  director  of  the  experiment.8 

Wilson  was  a  farm  boy  from  Iowa  who  had  taken  a  Bachelor 
of  Science  degree  in  agriculture  in  1907  at  Iowa  State,  where  he 
met  young  Henry  A.  Wallace.  After  tenant  farming  in  Nebraska, 
Wilson  homesteaded  in  Montana  in  1909.  His  farming  experience 
in  drought-stricken  Montana  led  to  his  work  with  the  agricultural 
college  at  Bozeman.  Wilson  became  Montana's  first  county  agricultural 
agent  and  first  state  director  of  extension  work.  In  1920  he  came  to 
the  University  of  Wisconsin  and  took  a  Master  of  Arts  degree,  study- 

7  Richard  T.  Ely,  "The  City  Housing  Corporation  and  'Sunnyside,' "  Journal 
of  Land  and  Public  Utility  Economics,  II  (1926),  174. 

8M.  L.  Wilson,  "The  Fairway  Farms  Project,"  Journal  of  Land  and  Public 
Utility  Economics,  II  (1926),  156-159. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  77 

ing  land  economics  under  Taylor  and  Ely  and  economics  under 
John  R.  Commons.  During  the  twenties  he  spent  three  summers 
studying  philosophy  at  the  University  of  Chicago  under  James  H. 
Tufts  and  Eustace  Hayden  and  one  summer  at  Cornell,  where  he 
studied  farm  management  under  George  F.  Warren.  He  had  both 
the  academic  background  and  the  farming  experience  needed  to 
direct  Fairway  Farms. 

Wilson  used  the  funds  of  Fairway  Farms,  Incorporated,  to  make 
experiments  on  the  proper  size  of  farms,  the  methods  of  selecting 
tenants  and  prospective  owners,  the  most  efficient  equipping  of 
farms,  and  the  type  of  farming  suited  to  a  particular  region.9  By  1926 
he  had  purchased  eight  farm  units  of  sizes  varying  up  to  2,500  acres. 
Prospective  purchasers  were  given  tenant-purchase  contracts.  After 
payment  of  all  necessary  expenses,  such  as  taxes,  insurance,  and 
family  living  expenses,  the  tenant  turned  the  remaining  net  income 
over  to  a  trust  fund.  When  the  trust  fund  amounted  to  25  per  cent 
of  the  purchase  price,  a  sales  contract  was  to  be  executed.  The 
carefully  selected  tenant  was  permitted  five  years  to  accumulate  the 
25  per  cent.  If  he  failed,  his  contract  was  to  be  canceled.  The  tenant 
was  given  supervision  and  financial  help  in  bad  years.  Everything 
was  planned  to  help  the  tenant  farmer  re-enter  the  national  struc- 
ture of  freehold,  one-family  farms.  These  farms  were  the  first  ex- 
periments in  regional  land  use  and  were  early  precedents  for  the 
tenant-rehabilitation  and  purchase  programs  of  the  New  Deal.  The 
experimentation  indicated  many  of  the  policies  that  Wilson  would 
adapt  to  his  subsistence  homesteads.  Yet,  despite  complete  mechani- 
zation on  some  units  and  an  amazing  degree  of  efficiency  in  produc- 
tion, the  drought  and  depression  combined  to  make  the  Fairway 
Farms  a  financial  failure.  The  project  was  discontinued  and,  much 
later,  the  land  was  sold. 

During  the  twenties  the  land  economists  and  sociologists  accepted 
as  their  province  of  study  all  the  problems  of  land  settlement,  rural 
social  advancement,  land  tenure,  and  rural  planning  that  Elwood 
Mead  was  trying  to  solve  with  his  rural  colonies.  But  the  approach 
of  the  economists  was  entirely  different.  They  were  more  cognizant 
of  the  total  economic  situation,  more  dependent  on  research,  and 
more  cautious  in  making  suggestions  for  action.  After  the  agricultural 

8  Ibid.,  p.  156. 


78  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

depression  began  in  1921  and  1922,  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Eco- 
nomics published  a  report  on  land  utilization  that  seemed  to  chal- 
lenge the  ideas  underlying  Mead's  program  of  development  and 
colonization.  In  this  report  the  economists  declared  that  the  age  of 
an  expanding  agricultural  plant  should  be  in  the  past.  In  a  period 
of  agricultural  surpluses,  any  further  development  of  farm  land  (such 
as  irrigation  projects)  should  be  slow  and  cautious.  On  the  positive 
side  they  advocated  the  reforestation  of  lands  unsuited  to  agriculture 
and  in  so  doing  raised  the  problem  of  resettlement  for  displaced 
farmers.10 

In  the  twenties  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  was  drawn 
into  the  heated  debates  over  farm  relief  proposals  and,  after  the  death 
of  Henry  C.  Wallace  in  1924,  lost  most  of  its  policy-making  influence. 
With  some  reluctance  the  farm  economists  and  Wallace  had  sup- 
ported a  form  of  price  fixing  for  agriculture,  which  was  being  de- 
fended by  two  private  farm  machinery  dealers,  George  N.  Peek  and 
Hugh  Johnson,  and  which  was  given  legislative  expression  in  the 
McNary-Haugen  bills.  The  McNary-Haugen  idea  involved  a  con- 
trolled domestic  market  for  agricultural  products  through  a  govern- 
ment-directed program  of  foreign  dumping  for  all  surplus  goods. 
Herbert  Hoover,  as  Secretary  of  Commerce  under  Harding  and 
Coolidge  and  later  as  President,  was  opposed  to  any  type  of  price 
supports  and  distrusted  the  farm  economists,  who,  he  believed,  had 
too  many  socialistic  ideas.  Hoover  proposed  government  aid  to  co- 
operative marketing  associations  as  the  best  solution  for  the  farm 
problem,  an  idea  that  was  incorporated  into  his  Farm  Board,  which 
was  established  in  1929.11 

The  farm  economists  continued  to  talk  about  other  relief  proposals, 
including  submarginal  land  retirement  and,  after  1926,  a  domestic 
allotment  system.  The  latter  proposal  was  first  broached  by  William 
J.  Stillman,  but  was  quickly  modified  and  defended  by  John  D. 

10  Salter,  A  Critical  Review,  pp.  18-20. 

"Chester  C.  Davis,  "The  Development  of  Agricultural  Policy  since  the  End 
of  the  World  War,"  in  Farmers  in  a  Changing  World:  The  Yearbook  of  Agricul- 
ture for  1940  (Washington,  1940),  pp.  302-306;  James  H.  Shideler,  "Herbert 
Hoover  and  the  Federal  Farm  Board  Project,  1921-1925,"  Mississippi  Valley 
Historical  Review,  XLII  (1955-1956),  721;  Arthur  M.  Schlesinger,  Jr.,  The  Age 
of  Roosevelt,  vol.  I:  The  Crisis  of  the  Old  Order  (Boston,  1957),  pp.  105-110, 
239-240. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  79 

Black  and  Milburn  L.  Wilson,  who  was  dividing  his  time  between 
Montana  and  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  Stillman's  plan  called 
for  the  issuance  of  allotment  certificates  covering  the  portion  of  a  crop 
allocated  for  domestic  use.  These  certificates  were  to  be  redeemable 
in  an  amount  equal  to  the  tariff  rate  on  the  product,  increasing  the 
farmers'  income  that  much  above  the  world  price.  Since  all  crops 
not  covered  by  allotment  certificates  would  sell  at  the  lower  com- 
petitive prices,  it  was  hoped  that  farmers  would  not  grow  crops  in 
excess  of  the  allotments.  Black  modified  the  plan  to  make  the  allot- 
ment certificates  transferable,  while  M.  L.  Wilson  worked  out  an 
adaptation  that  included  a  processing  tax  to  pay  for  the  scheme  and 
a  plan  for  voluntary  crop  reductions  by  farmers.12 

With  the  general  depression  beginning  in  the  fall  of  1929  and  with 
the  subsequent  failure  of  the  Farm  Board  to  alleviate  the  plight  of 
farmers,  the  Hoover  administration  was  ready  to  try  one  of  the  pro- 
posals of  the  farm  economists — land  retirement.  Secretary  of  Agricul- 
ture Arthur  M.  Hyde  and  the  land-grant  colleges  sponsored  a  Land 
Utilization  Conference  which  met  in  Chicago  in  1931.  Since  Hoover 
would  not  even  consider  governmental  controls  over  the  amount 
produced  by  individual  farmers,  the  conference  may  have  represented 
an  attempt  to  forestall  moves  toward  the  more  radical  domestic 
allotment  system.  The  Land  Utilization  Conference  met  to  consider 
the  possibilities  of  reducing  surpluses  by  retiring  from  productive 
use  the  many  submarginal  lands  throughout  the  country.  The  idea 
had  been  broached  by  Ely  much  before  the  twenties,  had  been  end- 
lessly discussed  by  the  farm  economists  throughout  the  twenties, 
and  had  been  advocated  by  a  Committee  on  the  Bases  of  a  Sound 
Land  Policy,  which  included  experts  from  engineering,  city  plan- 
ning, land  economics,  and  conservation,  all  of  whom  had  been  brought 
together  in  1927  by  Frederic  A.  Delano.13 

The  Land  Utilization  Conference  represented  the  first  great  fruition 
of  Ely's  work  in  land  economics.  As  an  old  man  surrounded  by  his 
many  former  students,  Ely  said:  "Now  as  I  look  at  this  program  .  .  . 

"John  D.  Black,  Agricultural  Reform  in  the  United  States  (New  York,  1929), 
p.  271;  Daniel  Roland  Fusfeld,  The  Economic  Thought  of  FDR  and  the  Origin 
of  the  New  Deal  (New  York,  1956),  p.  196. 

"Edward  C.  Banfield  and  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Governmental  Planning  at 
Mid-Century,"  Journal  of  Politics,  XIII  (1951),  143. 


80  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

I  feel  that  I  am  in  the  promised  land/' 14  Practically  every  facet  of 
land  planning  was  presented  in  papers  by  such  men  as  Ely,  Lewis  C. 
Gray,  John  D.  Black,  M.  L.  Wilson,  and  Elwood  Mead.  The  con- 
ference recommended  a  national  inventory  and  classification  of  land, 
the  licensing  and  regulation  of  land  development,  the  curtailment  of 
reclamation,  public  acquisition  and  retirement  of  submarginal  lands, 
and  a  study  of  industrial  decentralization.  It  resulted  in  the  creation 
of  the  National  Land  Use  Planning  Committee,  made  up  of  agri- 
cultural leaders  from  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  the  Federal 
Farm  Board,  the  Federal  Farmers  Loan  Board,  the  land-grant  col- 
leges, and  the  Department  of  the  Interior.  It  also  appointed  a  Na- 
tional Advisory  and  Legislative  Committee  on  Land  Use,  made  up 
of  representatives  of  the  farm  organizations. 

The  National  Land  Use  Planning  Committee  studied  land  uses 
in  the  Tennessee  Valley,  investigated  the  possibilities  of  industrial 
decentralization,  and  offered  some  guidance  to  the  back-to-trie-land 
movement  of  the  depression.  In  the  New  Deal  it  was  merged,  along 
with  Ickes'  National  Planning  Board  in  the  Public  Works  Administra- 
tion, into  the  National  Resources  Committee,  which  was  the  first  truly 
national  planning  agency.15  Others  of  Ely's  dreams  were  soon  to  be 
realized,  many  under  the  direction  of  his  students.  M.  L.  Wilson  was 
to  become  Director  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  the 
first  land-use  program.  He  borrowed  most  of  his  early  staff  members 
from  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  and  secured  one  of  the 
country's  leading  rural  sociologists  as  his  assistant.  Through  the  Civil 
Works  Administration  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
launched  research  projects  on  part-time  farming  in  thirty-three  states, 
marking  one  of  the  most  extensive  research  programs  in  the  land 
use  ever  projected.  A  large  program  of  land  retirement  was  set  up 
under  L.  C.  Gray  in  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration,  but 
with  funds  from  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration.  These 
programs  were  moved  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  in  1935, 
where  the  land  planners  not  only  purchased  submarginal  land  but 
provided  a  planning  staff  for  the  location  of  resettlement  communities. 
In  the  Resettlement  Administration  another  of  Ely's  wishes  was 
realized;  here,  city  planners  joined  the  land  planners. 

u  Proceedings,  National  Conference  on  Land  Utilization,  Chicago,  November 
19-21,  1931  (Washington,  1932),  p.  126. 

15  Banfield  and  Tugwell,  "Governmental  Planning,"  p.  143. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  81 

Although  M.  L.  Wilson  welcomed  the  idea  of  land  retirement,  he 
believed  that  this  would  only  begin  to  solve  the  farm  problem.  Thus, 
in  the  depression,  he  led  the  crusade  for  a  domestic  allotment  system 
as  a  necessary  part  of  a  much  broader,  longer-range  program  of  land- 
use  planning.  He  always  connected  with  the  domestic  allotment 
system  and  land  retirement  a  program  for  subsistence  homesteads. 
Wilson  faced  up  to  a  problem  that  had  been  inherent,  if  seldom 
discussed,  in  almost  all  the  land-utilization  discussions  since  1920. 
It  was  a  dark  ogre  in  back  of  any  relief  plan  that  involved  a  reduc- 
tion in  farm  production.  Land-use  planning,  it  appeared  certain,  was 
going  to  displace  many  farm  families  (Wilson  believed  2,000,000 
people).  What  were  they  to  do?  With  mass  unemployment  in  the 
cities,  industry  offered  no  refuge.  In  fact,  it  added  to  the  problem,  as 
witness  the  back-to-the-land  movement.  Wilson  believed  that  the 
only  possible  answer  was  industrial  decentralization  and  small  sub- 
sistence homesteads  of  a  few  acres.  On  this  small  acreage  a  family 
could  grow  all  its  food  and  thus  be  able  to  accept  shorter  hours  in 
industry.  Situated  between  commercial  agriculture  and  full-time 
industrial  employment,  subsistence  homesteads  communities  would 
bring  about  a  new  balance  between  agriculture  and  industry,  ab- 
sorbing both  the  industrially  unemployed  and  the  displaced  farmers. 
There  would  be  no  limit  to  the  absorption,  for  ever-shorter  hours 
would  enable  more  people  to  share  in  the  industrial  wage,  while  the 
workers'  wages  could  be  supplemented  by  home  food  production. 
Wilson's  ideas  on  subsistence  homesteads  were  adopted  from  his 
studies  of  existing  prototypes.  He  was  impressed  particularly  by  the 
Mormon  villages  in  Utah,  with  their  subsistence  homesteads  and 
village  industries.  In  addition,  he  was  influenced  by  his  belief  that 
certain  definite  "moral  and  spiritual  values"  come  from  contact  with 
the  soil  and  with  growing  things  and  by  a  counterbelief  that  congested 
cities  were  not  the  best  places  to  live.16  Wilson  himself  attributes  his 
earliest  ideas  on  subsistence  homesteads  to  Elwood  Mead  and  to  the 
Irish  agrarian  poet  and  philosopher,  George  Russell  or  "A.  E."  1T 

Wilson  began  a  propaganda  campaign  for  production  controls  and 
subsistence  homesteads  in  1931.  He  had  many  allies.  In  the  East 

18  Milburn  L.  Wilson,  Farm  Relief  and  Allotment  Plan  ( Day  and  Hour  Series 
no.  2,  University  of  Minnesota;  Minneapolis,  1933),  pp.  48-52. 
"Author's  conversation  with  M.  L.  Wilson  on  June  27,  1956. 


82  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

were  John  D.  Black  and  Henry  I.  Harriman,  president  of  the  U.S. 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  who  had  met  Wilson  while  visiting  Montana. 
On  a  committee  which  Wilson  set  up  in  the  West  was  Henry  A. 
Wallace,  son  of  Henry  C.  Wallace  and  publisher  of  a  farm  magazine 
in  Iowa.18  In  a  radio  address  in  April,  1932,  Wilson  summarized  his 
views,  asking  for  a  new  economic  philosophy  for  both  agriculture  and 
industry,  including  a  system  of  planned  land  use.  He  asked  for  a 
termination  of  the  homestead  law,  for  land  classification  by  the  states, 
for  the  retirement  of  poor  land,  for  lowered  land  taxes,  for  a  consolida- 
tion of  inefficient  rural  governmental  units,  for  a  domestic  allotment 
system,  and  for  part-time  farming  and  industrial  decentralization.19 
By  letters  and  speeches  Wilson  continued  his  campaign,  talking  to 
"economists,  writers,  politicians,  industrialists,  farm  leaders,  bankers, 
and  insurance  executives." 20  Always,  he  began  with  his  ideas  on 
crop  allotments  and  ended  with  subsistence  homesteads. 

When  Wilson  learned  that  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  had  long  been 
advocating  industrial  decentralization  and  rural-urban  communities, 
Wilson  reputedly  said:  "That's  my  man  for  President/'21  In  any  case, 
Wilson  came  to  regard  Roosevelt's  efforts  toward  land-use  planning 
in  New  York  State  as  milestones  toward  a  better  agricultural  pro- 
gram.22 Governor  Roosevelt,  working  closely  with  George  F.  Warren 
and  the  Cornell  College  of  Agriculture,  had  secured  a  $20,000  ap- 
propriation for  the  beginning  of  a  complete  survey  and  classification 
of  all  New  York's  agricultural  resources.  Cornell  agricultural  economists 
used  it  to  survey  Tompkins  County,  showing  the  need  for  retiring  from 
agriculture  a  large  percentage  of  the  farm  land.  On  the  basis  of 
this  survey,  which  was  to  be  expanded  to  the  whole  state  over  a  period 
of  ten  years,  Roosevelt  and  his  Agricultural  Advisory  Commission, 
which  included  Warren  and  Henry  Morgenthau,  Jr.,  formulated 
plans  for  the  retirement  and,  in  most  cases,  for  the  reforestation  of 

18  Unpublished  first  draft  of  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  eds.,  A  Place 
on  Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (published  in  Wash- 
ington, 1942),  in  Record  Group  83,  Records  of  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Eco- 
nomics, National  Archives  (to  be  cited  hereafter  as  R.G.  83,  National  Archives). 

19  M.  L.  Wilson,  "Land  Utilization,"  Lecture  no.  25  in  the  Economics  Series  of 
the  National  Advisory  Council  on  Radio  in  Education  (Chicago,  1932),  pp.  1-8. 

^Russell  Lord,  The  Wallaces  of  Iowa  (Boston,  1947),  p.  311. 

21  Ibid. 

22  M.  L.  Wilson,  "A  Land-Use  Program  for  the  Federal  Government,"  Journal 
of  Farm  Economics,  XV  (1933),  219. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  83 

all  submarginal  land.  For  the  marginal  farmer  Roosevelt  began  a 
relief  program  that  included  tax  adjustments,  state  aid  for  schools  and 
roads,  and  rural  electrification.23  For  the  submarginal  farmer  who 
would  have  to  be  resettled,  Roosevelt,  as  in  his  reaction  to  both  the 
city  planning  and  back-to-the-land  movements,  relied  primarily  on 
his  cherished  plan  for  a  marriage  of  agriculture  and  industry  as 
part  of  a  broad  program  of  regional  planning.  He  described  a  new, 
third  type  of  American  life,  which  he  called  the  "rural  industrial 
group."  This  involved  industrial  decentralization  and  a  new  balance 
between  town  and  country.  With  new  transportation  and  communica- 
tion facilities,  Roosevelt  believed  that  the  country  had  advantages 
which  could  not  be  duplicated  in  the  city  and  that  industry  was  going 
to  decentralize  voluntarily.24 

Roosevelt's  land-use  program  represented  a  full-sized  regional  plan 
for  New  York  State.  It  comprehended  his  interest  in  bettering  rural 
life,  his  advocacy  of  public  power  developments,  his  sympathy  for  the 
work  of  city  planners,  his  passionate  interest  in  conservation  and 
forestry,  and  his  absorbing  desire  to  unite  city  and  country.  It  repre- 
sented the  most  notable,  concrete  program  reflecting  Roosevelt's 
enthusiastic  acceptance  of  the  principle  of  planning  and  of  a  more 
positive  role  for  the  state.  His  willingness  to  accept  the  idea  of  govern- 
mental planning  in  the  field  of  natural  resources  and  public  utilities 
paved  the  way  for  his  acceptance  of  such  other  planning  programs 
as  were  reflected  in  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration  and 
the  National  Recovery  Administration.  Through  Roosevelt,  many  of 
the  ideas  of  the  German-trained  economists  who  founded  the  Amer- 
ican Economic  Association  were  to  find  expression  in  the  national 
government,  although  Roosevelt  never  desired  a  basic  change  in 
American  economic  institutions.  But  he  did  believe  that  the  govern- 
ment could  and  should  control  and  regulate  economic  endeavor  in 
such  a  way  as  to  insure  the  general  welfare.25 

On  a  board  sponsoring  one  of  M.  L.  Wilson's  radio  addresses  on 
land  utilization  in  the  spring  of  1932  was  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  then 
professor  of  economics  at  Columbia  University.  On  reading  the  ad- 

23  Fusfeld,  The  Economic  Thought  of  FDR,  pp.  125-136. 

24  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  "Actualities  of  Agricultural  Planning,"  in  Charles  A. 
Beard,  ed.,  America  Faces  the  Future  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1932),  pp.  326-347. 

25  Fusfeld,  The  Economic  Thought  of  FDR,  p.  251. 


84  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

dress,  Tugwell  wrote  Wilson  that  he  admired  his  ideas.  Shortly  after- 
ward, they  met  in  Washington  and  liked  each  other,  although  on 
many  things  their  ideas  were  not  similar.  Tugwell,  as  a  member  of 
Roosevelt's  developing  "brain  trust,"  carried  Wilson's  ideas  to  him. 
Just  a  week  before  the  Democratic  Convention  in  the  summer  of 
1932,  Tugwell  attended  a  meeting  on  agricultural  problems  at  the 
University  of  Chicago.  Here,  he  pressed  both  Wilson  and  Henry  A. 
Wallace  for  details  on  the  domestic  allotment  plan.  These  ideas 
were  telephoned  to  Hyde  Park  and,  in  general  terms,  incorporated 
into  Roosevelt's  acceptance  speech  at  Chicago.  After  further  guidance 
from  Wallace  and  Wilson,  the  ideas  were  expanded  by  Roosevelt  in 
his  September  speech  at  Topeka.26  In  August,  1932,  in  Albany,  both 
Wallace  and  Wilson  met  Roosevelt  for  the  first  time.  Roosevelt  and 
Wilson  found  themselves  in  a  complete  and  satisfying  agreement  on 
subsistence  homesteads,  which  were,  to  both  men,  the  dearest  part 
of  a  developing  agricultural  and  relief  program.  In  January,  1933, 
Roosevelt  asked  Wallace,  Tugwell,  and  Wilson  to  draw  plans  for 
the  reorganization  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  into  an  instru- 
ment of  national  planning.27  In  his  cheerfully  confident  inauguration 
speech  on  a  gloomy  March  4,  1933,  Roosevelt  asked  that  America 
"recognize  the  overbalance  of  population  in  our  industrial  centers  and, 
by  engaging  on  a  national  scale  in  a  redistribution,  endeavor  to  pro- 
vide a  better  use  of  the  land  for  those  best  fitted  for  the  land."  28 

Rexford  Guy  Tugwell  was  a  surprising  addition  to  the  group 
working  for  agricultural  reform.  In  spite  of  his  small-town  background, 
he  was  primarily  a  representative  of  urban  liberalism.  Although 
keenly  interested  in  agricultural  problems,  his  approach  to  them  was 
always  different  from,  and  less  conservative  than,  that  of  the  men  with 
a  farm  and  agricultural  college  background.  Through  Simon  Patten, 
Tugwell  had  been  exposed  to,  and  inspired  by,  economic  theories  not 
dissimilar  to  those  taught  by  Ely  at  Wisconsin,  but  without  the 
special  emphasis  on  land  problems. 

26  Lord,  Wallaces  of  Iowa,  p.  322;  Gertrude  Almy  Slichter,  "Franklin  D.  Roose- 
velt and  the  Farm  Problem,   1929-1932,"  Mississippi  Valley  Historical  Review, 
XLIII    (1956-1957),  247-250;   Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  The  Democratic  Roosevelt 
(Garden  City,  N.Y.,  1957),  pp.  232-233. 

27  Lord,  Wallaces  of  Iowa,  p.  323;  Slichter,  "Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  and  the 
Farm  Problem,  1929-1932,"  p.  252  fn. 

28  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  Nothing  to  Fear:  The  Selected  Addresses  of  Franklin  D. 
Roosevelt,  1932-1945,  ed.  by  B.  D.  Zevin  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1946),  p.  15. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  85 

Patten  was  probably  the  most  brilliant  of  all  the  German-trained 
economists.  After  an  interval  of  temporary  blindness,  he  had  gone  to 
the  Wharton  School  of  Finance  and  Commerce  at  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania.  Here  he  lived  a  frugal,  abstemious  life  of  thought  and 
teaching.  His  fertile  mind  ranged  over  wide  fields  of  sociology,  ethics, 
and  philosophy,  but  always  came  back  to  economics.  More  deduc- 
tive in  method  than  many  of  his  coUeagues,  Patten  was  less  involved 
with  practical  reforms  than  men  like  Ely,  but  made  greater  contribu- 
tions to  economic  theory.29  Convinced  that  English  natural-law  eco- 
nomic theories  were  antiquated  in  an  age  of  plenty  rather  than 
scarcity,  Patten  urged  a  recognition  of  the  implications  of  the  new 
environment,  an  environment  that  contained  not  only  a  better  tech- 
nology but  better  men,  or  men  with  added  skills.  Economic  strife  was 
as  antiquated  as  toil  and  struggle  to  wring  sustenance  from  the 
earth.  In  the  new  environment  a  pleasure  economy  was  available 
to  all.  Each  man  could  be  a  working  capitalist,  whether  his  capital  be 
money  or  skill.  Competition  was  a  carry-over  from  a  pain  economy, 
an  age  of  scarcity.  A  new  era  of  co-operation  and  voluntary  socializa- 
tion was  possible,  if  only  individuals  would  replace  dogmatism  with 
pragmatic  judgments,  or  the  'long  view."  Not  state  socialism,  with  its 
coercion,  but  the  voluntary  co-operation  and  mutual  tolerance  be- 
tween organized  groups  was  Patten's  optimistic  view  of  the  future's 
possibilities.  Unless  dogmatism  forced  state  action,  the  state  would 
only  have  to  register  the  mutual  assent  obtained  by  compromise  be- 
tween organized  groups.30 

Tugwell,  who  became  "immersed"  in  Patten's  teachings,  wanted 
the  same  socialization,  or  collectivism,  desired  by  Patten,  but  he  did 
not  share  Patten's  optimism  about  its  achievement  through  voluntary 
co-operation.  He  clearly  visualized  the  difficulty  of  change  or  adjust- 
ment and  predicted  that  any  planning  by  the  state  would  necessitate 
involuntary  regimentation  and  class  conflict.31  As  an  economist  he  be- 
came interested  in  the  plight  of  agriculture  even  before  1929.  In  1928 
he  advocated  production  controls,  enforced  by  the  federal  government, 
as  a  necessary  short-time  relief  measure,  but  only  as  a  temporary 

29  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Notes  on  the  Life  and  Work  of  Simon  Nelson  Patten," 
Journal  of  Political  Economy,  XXXI  (1923),  173-177. 

30  Simon  N.  Patten,  "The  Reconstruction  of  Economic  Theory,"  in  his  Essays  in 
Economic  Theory,  ed.  by  R.  G.  Tugwell  ( New  York,  1924 ) ,  pp.  273-340. 

31  Rexford   G.   Tugwell,   "The  Preparation   of  a  President,"  Western  Political 
Quarterly,  I  (1948),  142. 


86  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

measure.32  As  a  long-time  solution  he  desired  thorough  economic 
planning  for  agriculture,  with  extensive  social  control  over  the  in- 
dividual and  his  use  of  the  land.  He  deplored  the  fact  that  a  dedicated, 
but  what  he  believed  to  be  antiquated,  doctrine  of  individualism 
had  prevented  the  expert  supervision  of  farmers  by  those  who  knew 
how  to  improve  a  backward  agriculture. 

As  a  beginning  in  reform,  Tugwell  desired  the  reforestation  of 
millions  of  acres  of  submarginal  land,  with  the  planned  resettlement 
of  the  displaced  families.  He  recognized  that  an  ambitious  program 
of  governmental  planning  and  the  resultant  controls  would  meet  its 
most  determined  opposition  in  the  farmers  themselves,  with  their 
individualism,  their  ideas  on  freedom,  and  their  vested  property 
rights.  They  would  probably  continue  to  feel  that  they  had  a  right 
to  grow  what  they  pleased  or,  if  they  so  desired,  to  plow  a  furrow 
straight  down  the  hillside.  But  since  the  farmers  were  always  knock- 
ing at  the  door  of  Congress  for  assistance,  they  might  be  persuaded 
to  "give  the  expert  his  chance"  and  do  "what  the  expert  says"  in  ex- 
change for  aid.33  If  so,  and  this  idea  permeated  Tugwell's  thoughts 
on  the  whole  economy,  the  depression  might  serve  a  useful  function. 
Unlike  the  agriculturalists,  Tugwell  was  just  as  interested  in  other 
aspect  of  a  planned  economy,  welcoming  a  system  of  regulation  and 
control  over  business.  In  connection  with  community  planning,  Tug- 
well  desired  the  resettlement  of  displaced  farmers  in  agricultural 
villages.  He  also  desired  garden  cities  for  industrial  workers,  but  he 
was  never  enthusiastic  about  Roosevelt  and  Wilson's  ideas  on  com- 
munities of  part-time  farming  and  industry.  Tugwell,  much  later, 
described  Roosevelt's  strong  support  of  subsistence  homesteads  as  a 
bit  of  impractical  agrarian  sentimentality,  a  "Utopian  notion  out  of 
the  past — the  idea  that  men  are  better  off  close  to  nature  and  working 
with  their  hands  on  their  own  acres."  34 

With  strong  administrative  backing,  subsistence  homesteads  legisla- 
tion was  almost  a  certainty  in  the  hurried,  rubber-stamp  first  session 
of  the  Seventy-third  Congress.  The  strong  influence  of  M.  L.  Wilson 
and  the  many  people  he  had  converted  to  his  views,  all  of  whom  saw 

32  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Reflections  on  Farm  Relief,"  Political  Science  Quarterly, 
XLIII  (1928),  490-491. 

33  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Farm  Relief  and  a  Permanent  Agriculture,"  Annals  of 
the  American  Academy,  CXLII  (1929),  271-282. 

34  Tugwell,  Democratic  Roosevelt,  p.  158. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  87 

subsistence  homesteads  as  only  a  part  of  a  larger  land-use  planning 
program,  was  merged  with  that  of  the  more  doctrinaire  agrarians, 
the  rural  planners  of  the  El  wood  Mead  variety,  and  the  more  urban- 
ized garden  city  advocates.  Bernarr  Macfadden,  who  had  influenced 
the  introduction  of  subsistence  homesteads  legislation  in  the  Seventy- 
second  Congress  in  1932,  continued  as  a  powerful  propagandist  and 
lobbyist  for  subsistence  homesteads.  Mrs.  Edith  Lumsden,  his  pro- 
fessional lobbyist,  consulted  with  John  D.  Black,  M.  L.  Wilson,  and 
Elwood  Mead,  helping  to  unite  various  threads  of  interest.  She 
also  saw  Senator  John  H.  Bankhead  of  Alabama  who,  along  with  his 
brother,  Representative  William  B.  Bankhead,  had  been  an  advocate 
of  the  Mead-sponsored  rural  colonization  scheme  for  the  South.  Both 
Bankheads,  as  well  as  Representative  James  G.  Scrugham  of  Nevada, 
introduced  subsistence  homesteads  bills  into  the  first  session  of  the 
first  New  Deal  Congress,  only  to  see  them  ignored  by  harried  and 
rushed  congressmen.35  Senator  Bankhead,  the  most  powerful  congres- 
sional advocate  of  the  bills,  was  a  Southern  agrarian.  He  saw  the 
back-to-the-land  movement  as  an  effective  relief  measure  and,  even 
more,  as  a  means  to  "the  restoration  of  that  small  yeoman  class  which 
has  been  the  backbone  of  every  great  civilization."  He  also  saw  in 
it  the  hope  of  a  new  era  not  marred  by  sectionalism  or  by  a  spirit  of 
disunity  and  suspicion.36 

Senator  Bankhead's  first  bill,  which  was  introduced  on  the  first  day 
of  the  session,  called  for  a  loan  of  up  to  $1,000  a  person  to  aid  in  the 
purchase  of  "subsistence  farms."  The  beneficiaries  of  a  $400,000,000 
grant  from  the  Reconstruction  Finance  Corporation  were  to  be  the 
unemployed  city  workers  with  an  agricultural  background  or  those 
who  had  moved  back  to  the  country  since  January  1,  1931.  Local 
committees  or  any  other  agencies  selected  by  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior  were  to  locate  suitable  land,  secure  title  to  it,  and  then  super- 
vise the  construction  of  dwellings  and  the  purchase  of  livestock  and 
equipment  by  the  settler.  After  full  compliance  with  a  purchase  con- 
tract, the  land  title  was  to  be  conferred  upon  the  settler,  who  was  to 
repay  his  loan  over  a  twenty-year  period  at  not  over  4  per  cent  in- 

35  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  eds.,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Ap- 
raisal  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942),  p.  24. 
30  John  H.  Bankhead,  "The  One  Way  to  Permanent  National  Recovery,"  Liberty, 
X  (July  22,  1933),  18. 


88  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

terest.  Only  land  already  in  cultivation  could  be  purchased  for  sub- 
sistence homesteads,  thus  preventing  an  increased  agricultural  sur- 
plus.37 Senator  Bankhead's  other  bill,  introduced  on  April  17,  1933, 
stipulated  "subsistence  homesteads"  instead  of  "subsistence  farms," 
permitted  $1,500  loans,  provided  for  competent  and  experienced 
supervisors  for  the  settlers,  gave  recognition  to  the  community  or 
colony  type  of  settlement,  and  provided  for  a  Reconstruction  Finance 
Corporation  grant  of  $25,000,000.38  The  two  measures  in  the  House 
were  very  similar  to  Senator  Bankhead's  first  bill.  Representative 
Scrugham's  bill  permitted  loans  of  up  to  $2,000  and  provided  for 
repayment  over  a  period  of  forty  years.39  All  four  bills  placed  the 
administration  of  the  program  in  the  Department  of  the  Interior, 
which,  first  with  the  Homestead  Act  of  1862  and  then  with  Elwood 
Mead's  work  in  the  Bureau  of  Reclamation,  had  had  the  most  ex- 
perience with  land  settlement. 

Since  neither  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  bills  was  acted  upon 
by  Congress,  Senator  Bankhead,  with  White  House  backing,  was  able 
to  add  an  abbreviated  form  of  his  subsistence  homesteads  proposals 
to  the  National  Industrial  Recovery  Act,  which  was  enacted  in  May, 
1933.  Almost  hidden  as  Section  208  of  Title  II  of  this  tremendously 
significant  act,  the  subsistence  homesteads  section  received  no  dis- 
cussion in  the  hearings  or  in  the  floor  debates.  As  finally  approved, 
Section  208  read: 

To  provide  for  aiding  in  the  redistribution  of  the  overbalance  of  popula- 
tion in  industrial  centers  $25,000,000  is  hereby  made  available  to  the 
President,  to  be  used  by  him  through  such  agencies  as  he  may  establish 
and  under  such  regulations  as  he  may  make,  for  making  loans  for  and 
otherwise  aiding  in  the  purchase  of  subsistence  homesteads.  The  moneys 
collected  as  repayment  of  said  loans  shall  constitute  a  revolving  fund  to  be 
administered  as  directed  by  the  President  for  the  purposes  of  this  section.40 

This  small,  generalized  section  of  a  larger  act  included  few  of  the 
more  detailed  ideas  of  its  supporters  or  of  those  reflected  in  former 

37  U.S.  Senate,  73d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  Senate  bill  S.  69,  introduced  March  10, 
1933,  published  as  an  unpaged  leaflet. 

38  U.S.  Senate,  73d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  Senate  bill  S.  1503,  introduced  April  17, 
1933,  published  as  an  unpaged  leaflet. 

39  U.S.  House,  73d  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  House  bill  H.R.  4004,  introduced  March  21, 
1933,  published  as  an  unpaged  leaflet. 

40  United  States,  Statutes  at  Large,  XLVII,  pt.  i,  205-206. 


From  Acorn  to  Oak  89 

legislative  proposals  or  those  exemplified  in  actual  colonization 
projects.  It  did  not  necessarily  provide  for  any  program  of  coloniza- 
tion or  for  planned  communities,  as  its  funds  could  clearly  be  used 
in  making  loans  to  individual  families  for  the  purchase  of  isolated 
homesteads.  The  subsistence  homesteads  program  was  left  to  be 
worked  out  by  individuals  within  an  action  agency  and  without  any 
clear  mandate  from  Congress  as  to  details.  The  planning  of  the  pro- 
gram was  freely  turned  over  to  the  Executive.  This  "blank  check/'  so 
typical  of  the  emergency  legislation  of  1933,  would  of  necessity  have 
to  be  written  in  terms  of  only  a  few  of  the  many  conflicting  ideas 
about  what  subsistence  homesteads  should  be.  Eventually,  the  few 
ideas  selected  would  have  to  be  exposed  to  the  often  cruel  test  of  ex- 
perience. The  result  was  to  be  one  of  the  most  interesting  social 
experiments  in  American  history. 


Part  Two 


OF  BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS 


J*  V 


The  Subsistence  Homesteads  Program 


IN  accordance  with  the  expressed  provisions  of  the  earlier  Bank- 
head  subsistence  homesteads  bills,  President  Roosevelt  designated 
Harold  L.  Ickes,  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  to  carry  out  the  provisions 
of  Section  208  (the  subsistence  homesteads  section)  of  Title  II  of  the 
National  Industrial  Recovery  Act.  Already,  the  other  parts  of  Title 
II  (the  public  works  program)  had  been  given  to  Ickes.  Since  Sec- 
tion 208  contained  almost  no  guide  as  to  how  the  $25,000,000  for 
subsistence  homesteads  should  be  spent,  Ickes  could  have  placed 
the  program  in  his  Public  Works  Administration,  which  was  headed 
by  Robert  D.  Kohn.  With  his  experience  in  city  planning  and  public 
housing  in  World  War  I  and  in  the  Regional  Planning  Association, 
Kohn  wanted  to  use  the  funds  to  establish  a  few  farm  colonies  and 
several  garden  cities  of  the  Radburn  type.1 

Ickes  decided  to  place  subsistence  homesteads  in  a  separate  pro- 
gram, and,  either  by  letter  or  at  a  special  meeting  on  subsistence  home- 
steads on  July  26,  1933,  he  sought  advice  from  practically  everyone 
interested  in  garden  cities,  farm  colonies,  or  the  back-to-the-land  move- 
ment. He  contacted  Henry  I.  Harriman,  president  of  the  United  States 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  Dr.  Arthur  E.  Morgan  of  the  Tennessee  Valley 

1  Memorandum  on  Subsistence  Homesteads  by  Robert  D.  Kohn,  July  8,  1933, 
Record  Group  48,  Records  of  the  Office  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  National 
Archives  (to  be  cited  hereafter  as  R.G.  48,  National  Archives). 

93 


94  Tomorrow  a  "New  World 

Authority,  John  Nolen,  one  of  America's  best-known  city  planners, 
Bruce  Melvin,  a  rural  sociologist,  Henry  A.  Wallace,  Secretary  of  Agri- 
culture, Elwood  Mead,  Bernarr  Macfadden,  Rexford  Guy  Tugwell,  M. 
L.  Wilson,  and  many  of  the  farm  economists.  Among  the  different  in- 
dividuals suggested  as  possible  directors  of  the  subsistence  homesteads 
program  were  Dean  Thomas  Cooper  of  the  agricultural  college  of  the 
University  of  Kentucky,  Oscar  L.  Chapman,  Assistant  Secretary  of  the 
Interior,  Hugh  MacRae,  the  successful  organizer  of  the  farm  colonies 
in  North  Carolina,  M.  L.  Wilson,  and  Elwood  Mead.  In  what  was 
an  all-important  decision,  Ickes  selected  M.  L.  Wilson  for  the  position. 
By  August  1, 1933,  Wilson  and  Ickes  were  corresponding  about  policies 
for  the  new  program.2 

Wilson,  who  left  the  important  Wheat  Section  of  the  Agricultural 
Adjustment  Administration  in  order  to  direct  the  subsistence  home- 
steads program,  brought  with  him  not  only  a  well-formulated  plan 
for  subsistence  homesteads  but  a  conscious,  defined  social  philosophy 
as  well.  An  agricultural  economist  by  profession,  he  was  a  philosopher 
by  temperament.  A  mild,  conciliatory  individual,  Wilson,  along  with 
Wallace,  helped  temper  bureaucracy  with  philosophical  discussions 
in  the  rapidly  expanding  New  Deal  Department  of  Agriculture,  lead- 
ing to  one  of  the  most  interesting  experiments  in  self-conscious 
bureaucracy  in  American  history.3  M.  L.,  as  he  was  always  called, 
drew  his  philosophy  from  three  not  unrelated  sources:  pragmatism, 
cultural  anthropology,  and,  most  clearly,  the  institutional  economics 
of  John  R.  Commons.  Coloring  his  formal  beliefs  was  always  a  tinge 
of  dust  from  the  wide  fields  of  Iowa  and  Montana,  for  Wilson  always 
had  a  sentimental,  as  well  as  a  rationalized,  love  for  agriculture. 

Wilson  remained  calm  in  a  period  of  rapid,  stirring  change.  He  saw 
the  need,  even  the  necessity,  of  institutional  changes,  but  he  recog- 
nized and,  most  important,  accepted  the  difficulty  of  change.  He  be- 
lieved that  adjustment  was  required  constantly  as  the  environment 
changed,  but  that  the  problems  involved  in  adjustment  were  never 
simple.  Ultimately,  they  were  cultural  problems,  involving  moral  and 
philosophical  issues,  traditional  beliefs,  attitudes,  customs,  and  institu- 

2  Henry  I.   Harriman  to   Ickes,  July  22,   1933;   Tennessee  Valley  Authority  to 
Ickes,  July  21,  1933;  Chapman  to  Ickes,  July  19,  1933;  Elwood  Mead  to  Ickes, 
Aug.  3,  1933;  Rexford  G.  Tugwell  to  Ickes,  July  21,  1933;  all  in  R.G.  48,  National 
Archives. 

3  Russell  Lord,  "M.  L.  Wilson,  Nutritionist,"  Land,  II  (1942-1943),  309-312. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  95 

tions.  Thus,  reform  could  not  be  rapid,  for  it  required  generations 
instead  of  years,  and  reform  measures  had  to  be  judged  on  how  well 
they  met  the  only  vaguely  known  psychic  needs  of  man  and  not  on 
their  formal  perfection.  Psychological  and  cultural  insight  was  more 
important  than  technical  competency.  Reforms  could  not  be  purely 
economic,  for  adjustment  involved  whole  cultural  patterns,  myths  as 
well  as  facts.  Associated  with  passing  institutions  were  many  virtues, 
moral  values,  and  even  religious  ideals.  Wilson  believed  that  there 
was,  in  1933,  a  serious  maladjustment  between  the  world  of  things 
and  the  world  of  thought,  or,  in  more  popular  terms,  a  serious  cultural 
lag.  How  to  reconcile  the  two  worlds  was  the  problem.4 

An  attitude  of  good  will  and  a  rejection  of  absolutes  were,  according 
to  Wilson,  indispensable  to  successful  adjustment  to  change.  Wilson 
both  believed  in  and  practiced  tolerance  toward  other  men  with  vary- 
ing ideas.  Unlike  many  of  the  reformers  of  his  day,  he  credited  other 
people,  businessmen  as  well  as  farmers,  with  intelligence  and  high 
intentions.  Thus,  he  was  able  to  include  diverse  individuals  in  his 
programs  and  even  to  encourage  friendly  controversy.  He  believed 
that  bitterness,  personal  and  class  conflict,  and  intolerance  prevented 
understanding  and  accomplishment.  He  deplored  a  tendency  to  blame 
the  slowness  of  change  on  "vested  interests,"  believing  that  such  a 
tendency  would  lead  to  a  personal-devil  theory  and  to  class  an- 
tagonism. Just  as  much,  he  feared  the  results  of  dogmatism.  A  firm 
believer  in  the  existence  of  social  change  as  well  as  natural  evolution, 
Wilson  was  a  relativist  and  a  pragmatist.  In  his  view,  man  lives 
briefly  and  sees  only  a  small  segment  of  the  universe.  Only  this  small 
segment  does  he  know.  To  adjust  to  this,  his  world,  man  needs  new, 
creative  thinking  instead  of  old,  exclusive  doctrines.  But  yet  the  old, 
with  its  legacy  of  both  valuable  and  antiquated  ideas,  with  its  "truths" 
and  its  myths,  is  modified  only  with  great  difficulty.  Education  may 
hold  an  answer,  according  to  Wilson,  but  not  education  in  the  sense  of 
a  social  scientist  or  an  expert  telling  people  the  "truth,"  for  quite 
likely  the  expert  himself  needs  educating.  Only  by  developing  a 
critical  sense,  a  broader  point  of  view,  and  a  creative  imagination 

4  M.  L.  Wilson,  "Beyond  Economics,"  in  Farmers  in  a  Changing  World:  The 
Yearbook  of  Agriculture,  1940  (Washington,  1940),  pp.  925-927;  M.  L.  Wilson, 
"Great  Decisions  upon  Which  the  Future  of  Rural  Life  Will  Depend,"  Proceed- 
ings of  the  American  Country  Life  Association,  18th  Conference  (Columbus,  Ohio, 
1935),  pp.  94-95. 


96  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

does  education  contribute  to  the  difficult  task  of  adjustment.  Only 
this  type  of  education  would  permit  necessary  social  experimentation 
to  be  carried  out  in  a  democratic  atmosphere,  with  numerous  com- 
mittees and  unending  discussions.  Only  this  type  of  education  could 
lead  to  the  consideration  and  the  questioning  of  fundamental  values. 
"Philosophic  probing,  if  it  is  sincere  and  deep  enough,"  Wilson  said, 
"can  realine  our  total  thinking  in  such  a  way  as  to  alter  the  nature  of 
our  attack  upon  those  problems,  for  which  immediate,  calculable, 
and  practical  programs  are  possible."  5 

Democracy  was  the  nearest  thing  to  an  absolute  to  Wilson.  As  a 
national  planner  advocating  broad  changes  in  American  life,  he  was 
sincerely  concerned  over  whether,  in  an  increasingly  complex  eco- 
nomic system,  with  its  required  public  controls,  American  society 
"is  capable  of  producing  a  kind  of  supergovernmental  economic  and 
social  intelligence  which  can  function  in  harmony  with  our  dem- 
ocratic heritage  and  attitude  of  mind."  6  But  if  democracy  was  to  sur- 
vive, believed  Wilson,  the  new  planning  and  the  new  governmental 
controls  had  to  be  built  from  the  ground  up,  and  on  the  solid  rock  of 
democratic  opinion.  Governments  may  provide  the  "devices  whereby 
the  rank  and  file  may  set  their  local  problems  into  a  national  perspec- 
tive, help  to  articulate  the  opinions  that  are  formed  on  this  basis,  and 
finally  assist  in  turning  ideas  into  action."  T  But  always,  the  planning 
had  to  spring  from  the  people.  The  people  plan  in  a  democracy;  they 
are  not  planned.  Said  Wilson:  "When  you  try  to  move  things  faster 
than  the  awakened  will  and  understanding  of  the  people,  it  isn't  good 
education  and  it  isn't  democracy."  8  Wilson  would  not  depart  from  this. 
It  was  incorporated  into  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration 
through  the  principle  of  reliance  on  local  committees.  To  Wilson, 
decentralized  organization  and  local  participation  had  to  be  at  the 
heart  of  any  lasting  subsistence  homesteads  program. 

Wilson  was  enough  of  an  agrarian  to  deplore  some  of  the  trends  of 
an  industrial,  materialistic  society,  but  he  did  not  make  a  reactionary 

5  Wilson,  "Beyond  Economics,"  pp.  924-930. 

6  M.  L.  Wilson,  "How  New  Deal  Agencies  Are  Affecting  Family  Life,"  Journal 
of  Home  Economics,  XXVII  (1935),  275. 

7  Wilson,  "Beyond  Economics,"  p.  925. 

8  M.  L.  Wilson,  as  quoted  in  an  unpublished  first  draft  of  Russell  Lord  and 
Paul  H.  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads (published  in  Washington,  1942),  in  R.G.  83,  National  Archives. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  97 

appeal  to  past  gods  and  past  authorities.  Instead,  he  viewed  modern 
civilization  from  the  viewpoint  of  a  humanist  who  desired  a  "better 
life"  for  everyone  and,  because  of  background  or  philosophy,  defined 
the  "better  life"  in  such  a  way  that  it  always  included  some  contact 
with  the  soil  and  the  countryside.  Wilson  was  aware  of  the  freeing 
potentialities  of  technological  improvements.  He  was  not  anti-indus- 
trial. Although  he  appreciated  the  values  and  the  beauties  of  the 
old  farm,  he  never  joined  Ralph  Borsodi  in  a  retreat  from  modernity. 
Rather,  he  wished  to  stop  and  look  about  before  continuing  the  march 
onward  toward  more  and  more  technology  and  efficiency.  He  desired 
the  economic  security,  social  stability,  neighborliness,  lack  of  social 
pressure,  and  social  participation  of  America's  agricultural  past,  while 
he  believed  that  much  of  city  life  was  unnatural,  leading  to  frustra- 
tions, taxed  nervous  systems,  and  decreased  physical  vitality.9  He 
believed  that  the  trend  toward  urbanization,  centralization,  and  in- 
creased commercialism  was  not  necessary  and  desirable  for  all  people 
and  that  more  and  more  people  were  likely  to  be  squeezed  out  of  the 
economic  system  by  progress.  Because  of  economic  necessity,  some 
farmers  and  industrial  workers  would  have  to  live  on  subsistence 
homesteads,  perhaps  with  a  subsidy  from  society.  Apart  from  economic 
reasons,  some  people  would  aesthetically  revolt  against  the  "jazz- 
industrial  age,"  choosing  instead  subsistence  homesteads  and  in- 
dustrial decentralization.10  For  both  of  those  groups  there  could  be  a 
real  gain,  for  "there  are  certain  moral  and  spiritual  values  for  all  of 
us  coming  from  this  contact  with  the  soil  and  from  living  with  grow- 
ing things."  n 

On  August  1,  1933,  Wilson  outlined  to  Ickes  his  thoughts  on  how 
best  to  use  the  $25,000,000  subsistence  homesteads  appropriation. 
Because  of  the  limited  funds,  Wilson  advised  widely  distributed 
experimental  communities  as  object  lessons  in  the  decentralization 
of  industry  and  in  the  creation  of  a  new  pattern  of  life,  with  greater 
security  and  more  opportunity  for  the  constructive  use  of  leisure  time. 
He  recommended  a  federal  plan  of  administration,  with  decentralized 

0  M.  L.  Wilson,  "Science  and  Folklore  in  Rural  Life,"  in  Oliver  E.  Baker,  Ralph 
Borsodi,  and  M.  L.  Wilson,  Agriculture  in  Modern  Life  (New  York,  1939),  pp. 
242-244. 

10  Russell  Lord,  "M.  L.  Wilson:  Pioneer,"  Survey  Graphic,  XXX   (1941),  691. 

11  M.  L.  Wilson,  Farm  Relief  and  Allotment  Plan  (Day  and  Hour  Series  no.  2, 
University  of  Minnesota;  Minneapolis,  1933),  p.  50. 


98  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

administration  and  responsibility.  The  communities,  which  were  to  be 
located  near  available  employment,  were  to  include  four  types: 
experimental  farm  colonies,  subsistence  gardens  for  city  workers, 
colonies  for  stranded  workers,  and,  primarily,  homesteads  for  part- 
time  industrial  workers.  He  also  desired  a  research  program  and  close 
co-operation  with  the  Departments  of  Agriculture,  Commerce,  and 
Labor,  with  state  governments,  and  with  agricultural  colleges.12  On 
August  23,  1933,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  officially 
organized  in  the  Department  of  the  Interior.  In  addition  to  Wilson, 
early  staff  members  included  Clarence  Pickett  of  the  American  Friends 
Service  Committee;  Dr.  Carl  C.  Taylor,  a  leading  rural  sociologist 
at  North  Carolina  State  College;  Bruce  Melvin,  a  sociologist;  and  Roy 
Hendrickson,  an  Iowa  newspaper  reporter.  Additional  staff  members 
were  borrowed  from  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics.13 

The  early  staff  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was 
confronted  with  tremendous  policy  problems.  Very  few  colonization 
schemes  had  succeeded  in  the  past,  and  almost  none  had  combined 
industry  with  part-time  agriculture.  Despite  the  growth  of  research 
in  land  utilization,  there  was  only  one  current  study  of  subsistence 
farming.14  This  paucity  of  research  led  to  later  criticism  of  the 
subsistence  homesteads  program,15  but  Wilson  could  not  await  the 
completion  of  any  elaborate  studies.  With  Civil  Works  Administration 
funds,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  did  launch  extensive 
research  projects  on  part-time  farming  in  most  states,  but  in  1934 
the  Civil  Works  Administration  funds  were  withdrawn  before  most  of 
the  projects  were  completed.  Wilson  frankly  proposed  to  find  answers 
and  develop  policies  through  experimentation,  although  he  had  a  vast 
knowledge  of  past  and  existing  colonization  schemes.16  He  believed 
that  past  colonies  had  failed  because  of  poor  location,  remoteness, 
paternalism,  politics,  poor  settlers,  or  unsound  promotion.  He  thought 
success  possible  with  subsistence  homesteads  communities  because  of 

™  Memorandum  from  M.  L.  Wilson  to  Ickes,  Aug.  1,  1933,  R.G.  48,  National 
Archives. 

13  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942),  pp.  40-41. 

14  David    Rozman,    "Part-Time    Farming    in    Massachusetts,"    in    Massachusetts 
Agricultural  Experiment  Station,  Bulletin  no.  266  (1930),  pp.  104-146. 

^Leonard  A.  Salter,  Jr.,  "Research  and  Subsistence  Homesteads,"  Rural  Soci- 
ology, II  (1937),  207-208. 

10  M.  L.  Wilson,  "Place  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  Our  National  Economy," 
Journal  of  Farm  Economics,  XVI  (1934),  81. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  99 

the  developments  in  land-use  planning,  because  of  the  movement  for 
decentralization  of  industry,  and  because  of  the  new  tendencies  in 
American  life,  such  as  the  movement  back  to  the  land  and  to  the 
suburbs.17  Certainly  the  dangers  and  pitfalls  of  the  program  were 
visualized.  Roy  Hendrickson  drew  up  seventy-six  possible  or  probable 
mistakes.  Significantly,  in  light  of  later  experience,  the  first  two  of  these 
were:  poor  land  or  inadequate  water  and  mistaken  assumptions  about 
employment  opportunities.18 

Both  a  help  and  a  hindrance  in  the  early  attempts  to  develop  a 
concrete,  practical  program  for  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
were  the  many  individuals  and  groups  with  dogmatic  ideas  about 
what  subsistence  homesteads  should  be.  From  some  of  these  Wilson 
drew  many  practical  ideals  while  mildly  rejecting  at  least  part  of  the 
doctrines  behind  the  ideas.  From  Ralph  Borsodi  and  the  escapist 
agrarians,  who  wanted  to  retreat  from  modernity  and  industrializa- 
tion, and  from  Hugh  MacRae,  who  had  paternalistic  rural  colonies  in 
North  Carolina,  Wilson  learned  some  of  the  practical  problems  of 
creating  subsistence  homesteads.  Of  less  value  were  the  ideas  of 
people  like  Bernarr  MacFadden,  who  felt  that  once  the  individual  was 
out  on  the  farm  little  more  need  be  done  for  him.  A  constant  problem 
was  that  of  appeasing  the  farmers,  who,  despite  the  very  diplomatic 
use  of  the  word  "subsistence,"  still  feared  government-sponsored 
competition.  On  the  other  side  were  the  few  industrialists  who  would 
have  liked  to  use  subsistence  homesteads  to  anchor,  at  no  expense  to 
themselves,  an  ample,  complacent  labor  force. 

Less  important,  but  more  interesting,  were  the  thousands  of  sugges- 
tions that  came  from  individuals  all  over  the  country.  Every  new  idea  on 
community  life  found  its  way  eventually  to  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  Elea- 
nor Roosevelt,  Wilson,  or  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  One 
person  wanted  to  use  subsistence  homesteads  for  eugenic  experiments; 
he  planned  to  mix  various  bloodlines,  such  as  introducing  Quaker 
stock  into  an  Alabama  colony.19  A  dancing  teacher  wanted  to  use  the 
subsistence  homesteads  appropriation  to  introduce  Greek  robes  and 
aesthetic  dancing  into  colonies  of  clumsy  farmers.20  A  plan  to  revive 

17  M.  L.  Wilson,  "New  Land- Use  Program:   The  Place  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads," Journal  of  Land  and  Public  Utility  Economics,  X  (1934),  3-9. 
18 Russell  Lord,  The  Wallaces  of  Iowa  (Boston,  1947),  p.  426. 

19  Ibid.,  p.  423. 

20  Unpublished  first  draft  of  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  R.G.  83, 
National  Archives. 


100  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

medieval  craft  guilds  competed  with  the  ideas  of  a  brilliant  psychol- 
ogist, who  couched  his  plans  in  such  language  that  no  member  of 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  could  understand  them.  A 
persistent  advocate  of  the  "road  town"  finally,  after  weeks  of  fruitless 
promotion,  plunged  to  his  death  from  a  window  in  New  York  City.21 
From  California  came  an  earnest  advocate  of  dairying  colonies.  He 
brought  detailed  blueprints  of  huge  dairy  barns  which  could  hold 
2,000  cows  each.  An  opening  at  the  top  ridgepole  of  each  barn  led  to 
a  secondary  roof,  which  contained  an  electrical  device  for  killing 
the  cow  flies  that  were  sucked  up  to  the  trap.  A  chain  of  buckets 
carried  the  dead  flies  to  manure  spreaders.  The  electric  power  to 
circulate  the  chain  of  buckets,  kill  the  flies,  light  the  barn,  and  run  the 
milkers  was  to  be  supplied  by  power-producing  treadmills,  operated 
by  the  exercise  of  twenty-four  bulls  (the  exact  number  for  2,000 
cows).  When  told  that  his  plan  was  too  perfect,  he  was  almost 
satisfied.22 

In  formulating  policies  Wilson  had  the  advice  of  a  group  of  dis- 
tinguished individuals  who,  sharing  a  common  interest  in  subsistence 
homesteads,  had  voluntarily  organized  a  National  Advisory  Com- 
mittee on  Subsistence  Homesteads.  On  the  invitation  of  Henry  I.  Har- 
riman,  United  States  Chamber  of  Commerce  president,  the  committee 
held  its  first  meeting  on  September  26,  1933,  in  order  to  formulate 
recommendations  on  subsistence  homesteads.  Attending  were  the 
following  individuals:  M.  L.  Wilson;  Harold  Ickes;  Rexford  G.  Tug- 
well,  then  Undersecretary  of  Agriculture;  Senator  John  H.  Bankhead, 
father  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  legislation;  Hayden  B.  Harris, 
head  of  the  Harris  Trust  and  Savings  Bank  of  Chicago  and  a  strong 
supporter  of  subsistence  homesteads  for  relief;  William  A.  Julian, 
Treasurer  of  the  United  States  and  an  advocate  of  industrial  decentral- 
ization; Edward  A.  O'Neal,  president  of  the  American  Farm  Bureau; 
Louis  J.  Taber,  master  of  the  Grange;  Bernarr  Macfadden,  back-to- 
the-lander  extraordinary;  Louis  Brownlow,  an  expert  in  municipal 
government;  Dr.  John  D.  Black,  an  agricultural  economist  and  friend 
of  M.  L.  Wilson;  Philip  V.  Garden,  director  of  the  Utah  Experimental 
Station  and  an  authority  on  Mormon  colonies;  Ralph  E.  Flanders,  a 

21  Clarence  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread  (Boston,  1953),  pp.  50-51. 

22  Unpublished  first  draft  of  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  R.G.  83, 
National  Archives, 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  101 

Vermont  manufacturer  who  employed  part-time  farmers;  Dr.  John 
A.  Ryan,  of  the  National  Catholic  Welfare  Conference;  Bernard  G. 
Waring,  a  Philadelphia  industrialist  with  a  knowledge  of  conditions 
in  the  coal  fields;  George  Soule,  editor  of  the  New  Republic  and 
formerly  a  member  of  Elwood  Mead's  commission  to  study  coloniza- 
tion opportunities  in  the  South;  Meyer  Jacobstein,  economist,  labor 
arbitrator,  and  politician;  Dr.  Philip  Weltner,  chancellor  of  the  Univer- 
sity System  of  Georgia  and  promoter  of  one  of  the  first  subsistence 
homesteads;  William  Green  of  the  American  Federation  of  Labor; 
and  Dr.  Clark  Foreman,  a  Department  of  the  Interior  adviser  on  the 
economic  status  of  the  Negroes.23  The  personnel  on  the  committee 
reflected  the  broad  interest  in  subsistence  homesteads,  as  well  as 
the  desire  of  Wilson  and  other  staff  members  to  develop  a  wide 
public  support  for  their  movement.  Because  of  the  divergent  interest 
groups  represented,  the  committee  bogged  down  in  endless  discus- 
sions before  issuing  fifteen  rather  general  recommendations.  These 
followed  most  of  Wilson's  ideas  in  asking  for  experimental  commun- 
ities, the  maximum  of  local  responsibility,  close  co-operation  with 
local  and  federal  agencies,  agricultural  guidance  for  the  homesteaders, 
long-term  credit,  and,  perhaps  most  important,  local  nonprofit  corpora- 
tions to  administer  each  project.24 

Although  most  of  the  Advisory  Committee's  recommendations  be- 
came the  original  policies  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads, 
they  did  not  encompass  the  philosophy  of  subsistence  homesteads  as 
developed  by  Wilson  and  his  assistants.  Wilson's  emphasis  on  local 
autonomy  and  co-operation  with  local  agricultural  groups,  his  desire 
to  avoid  class  antagonism  and  any  rapid  departure  from  the  in- 
dividualistic basis  of  American  society,  his  ability  to  reconcile  dif- 
ferences between  antagonistic  groups,  his  wide  range  of  friends, 
from  industrialists  to  agrarians,  and  his  great  prestige  among  agricul- 
turalists helped  allay  any  fears  of  radicalism  in  the  early  subsistence 
homesteads  program.  Support  was  won  from  diverse  groups.  In  many 

23  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  42;  a  press  release,  Department 
of  the  Interior,  Sept.  25,  1933,  Record  Group  16,  Records  of  the  Office  of  the 
Secretary  of  Agriculture,  1935-1937,  National  Archives  (to  be  cited  hereafter  as 
R.G.  16,  National  Archives). 

24  U.S.  Department  of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  "Subsistence  Home- 
stead Movement  under  National  Recovery  Act/'  Monthly  Labor  Review,  XXXVII 
(1933),  1327-1328. 


102  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

ways,  Wilson  was  at  his  best  as  a  liaison  man  and  an  arbitrator  and 
not  as  an  administrator.  This  early  atmosphere  of  good  feelings 
tended  to  conceal  the  fact  that  Wilson,  and  most  of  his  assistants, 
viewed  subsistence  homesteads  as  a  new  frontier,  as  the  locale  for 
a  new  way  of  life,  with  new  and  controversial  values  and  institutions. 
Even  as  they  envisoned  certain  material  and  economic  benefits  from 
subsistence  homesteads,  such  as  better  diets,  security,  a  cushion  against 
unemployment,  a  better  place  to  raise  children,  a  closer  association 
with  nature,  less  social  pressures,  cheaper  living  expenses,  and  a 
better  use  of  leisure  time,  they  also  envisioned  a  new,  improved  man, 
with  new  attitudes  and  new  values.25 

The  subsistence  homesteads  community,  with  its  gardens  and  neigh- 
borhood industry,  was,  in  Wilson's  mind,  an  ideal  to  be  achieved, 
perhaps  with  difficulty,  for  it  did  not  fit  many  existing  patterns  and 
would  require  extensive  adjustments.  In  some  ways  he  shared  a  type 
of  idealism  that  had  influenced  all  the  community  builders  of  the 
past.  He  envisioned  a  new  village  life,  with  handicrafts,  community 
activities,  closer  family  relationships,  and  co-operative  enterprises. 
He  called  it  the  "community  idea."  2G  It  featured  a  retreat  from  ex- 
treme materialism  and  from  a  highly  individualistic,  competitive 
society  to  a  more  simple,  more  secure,  more  socially  minded  existence. 
But  the  average  American,  believed  Wilson,  would  not  readily  adjust 
to  such  a  village  or  community  life.  Man  himself  would  have  to 
change.  This  comes  close  to  the  heart  of  Wilson's  thoughts  and  aims. 
He  said:  "Somehow,  or  in  some  way,  attitudes  and  lives  of  the  families 
who  occupy  these  communities  must  be  integrated  so  as  to  provide  a 
new  and  different  view  of  life  and  a  new  and  different  set  of  family 
values."  2T  To  Wilson,  there  would  be  a  dual  process.  On  one  hand, 
there  would  have  to  be  an  extensive  education  program  to  help  de- 
velop the  attitudes  necessary  for  an  integrated  community  life.  On 
the  other  hand,  life  in  subsistence  homesteads  communities  would 
help  develop  the  new  attitudes.  Thus,  he  believed  that  co-operative 
institutions  would  develop,  serving  as  aids  to  "creative  community 
development."  Perhaps  his  greatest  hope  was  expressed  in  the  follow- 

25  Wilson,  "New  Land-Use  Program,"  pp.  10-12;  M.  L.  Wilson,  "Decentraliza- 
tion of  Industry  in  the  New  Deal/'  Social  Forces,  XIII  (1935),  597-598. 

20  Wilson,  "Place  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  Our  National  Economy,"  p.  81. 
^Wilson,  "How  New  Deal  Agencies  Are  Affecting  Family  Life,"  p.  227. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  103 

ing  statement:  "Co-operation  will  be  the  basis  of  our  future  society 
if  we  are  to  maintain  our  individual  freedom  and  not  bow  to  the  force 
of  a  dictator.  I  believe  that  the  subsistence  homesteads  community 
can  well  serve  as  a  cradle  for  a  new  growth  of  the  co-operative  at- 
titude." 28 

Even  as  policies  and  aims  were  being  formulated,  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads  was  preparing  for  an  action  program.  The 
original  five  full-time  employees  of  the  division  occupied  three  rooms 
in  the  Interior  building,  but  were  quickly  swamped  by  a  flood  of 
correspondence.  By  October  there  were  twenty-three  people  in  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  occupying  a  whole  floor  of  the 
Hurley  Wright  Building.  Almost  as  quickly  as  the  $25,000,000  ap- 
propriation for  subsistence  homesteads  was  announced,  letters,  thou- 
sands of  letters,  began  to  pour  into  Washington,  usually  addressed 
to  Franklin  D.  or  Eleanor  Roosevelt,  both  of  whom  had  taken  a  great 
interest  in  the  subsistence  homesteads  movement.  Everyone  wanted 
some  of  the  money  for  himself  or  for  his  area  of  the  country.  By 
February,  1934,  the  requests  for  loans  amounted  to  $4,500,000,000.29 
From  these  requests  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  had  to 
select  the  most  deserving. 

The  largest  share  of  the  letters  received  by  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  (all  had  to  be  answered)  were  personal  requests 
for  loans,  despite  division  press  releases  explaining  that  only  com- 
munity settlements  were  planned.  Other  letters  were  from  individuals 
or  real  estate  promoters  who  wanted  to  unload  a  piece  of  land  or 
from  leading  citizens  or  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  of  cities,  re- 
questing a  subsistence  homesteads  community  for  their  area.  Almost 
every  city  in  the  United  States  could  prove  that  it  most  needed  or 
most  deserved  a  subsistence  homesteads  community.  A  few  people 
wanted  employment  in  the  division,  and  thousands  wanted  the  division 
to  adopt  their  particular  scheme.  A  few  letters  offered  excellent  advice 
and  were  individually  answered  ( most  were  answered  by  form  letters ) . 

28  M.  L.  Wilson,  "The  Subsistence  Homesteads  Program,"  Proceedings  of  the 
Institute  of  Public  Affairs,  1934,  VIII  (1934),  pt.  i,  171-172. 

29  M.  L.  Wilson  to  B.  L.  Berg,  Feb.  24,  1934,  Record  Group  96,  Records  of 
the   Farmers'   Home  Administration    (includes   records   of  the   Division   of   Sub- 
sistence  Homesteads,   the   Resettlement   Administration,    and   the   Farm    Security 
Administration),  National  Archives   (to  be  cited  hereafter  as  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives ) . 


104  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Some  merely  disgusted  the  staff  of  the  division.  One  man  in  a  Michigan 
city  asked  that  the  division  establish  a  colony  well  away  from  his 
community  in  order  to  settle  there  all  the  Negroes  of  his  city,  which, 
according  to  him,  had  a  serious  Negro  problem.30  One  woman  wrote 
a  150-page  letter  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt,  recounting  a  life  of  un- 
believable misfortune  and  asking  for  money  to  purchase  a  farm.31 
One  man,  asking  for  a  loan  for  a  subsistence  homestead,  complained 
that  his  family  was  in  poor  health  "due  to  the  carbon  monoxide  poison 
which  accumulates  in  New  York  City  on  a  heavy  day." 32  On  re- 
ceiving one  of  the  standard,  explanatory  replies,  he  protested  that  he 
merely  wanted  money  to  buy  "a  tent  and  build  a  homestead  in 
Florida"  and  was  not  interested  in  "coal-miners,  negroes  and  starving 
farmers  and  the  rest  of  the  horseradish  soup." 33  Some  wrote  in 
groups,  as  the  following  people  from  Arkansas:  "We  are  100  familys 
which  like  to  buy  3000  to  5000  acres  of  U.S.  land  For  to  colonize  in 
state  of  Arkansaw."  34  One  person  wrote  a  poem  to  President  Roose- 
velt: 

Our  state  has  thousands  of  acres  of  logged  off  land 
Where  timber  again  will  never  stand 
Also  thousands  of  families  unemployed 
That  FDR  could  make  overjoyed. 

Build  a  nice  little  house  and  also  a  barn 

Put  on  a  cow  and  some  chickens  and  pigs  and  do  no  harm 

With  a  chance  like  this  ten  out  of  eleven 

Would  think  they  were  at  the  gate  of  heaven. 

A  home  is  one  thing  we  would  all  enjoy 
And  if  any  one  can  do  this  you  are  the  boy 
Now  what  do  you  think  Franklin  D. 
I  am  sure  that  you'll  agree  with  me.35 

After  examining  some  400  proposals  that  possessed  some  merit, 
Wilson  announced,  on  October  14,  1933,  that  the  division  would 
concentrate  on  three  types  of  colonies.  First,  and  primarily,  there 

30  Burrall  G.  Newman  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  Feb.  20,  1934,  ibid. 

31  Lizzie  Crane  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt,  Feb.  27,  1934,  ibid. 
82  Samuel  Bernstein  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  Feb.,  1934,  ibid. 

33  Bernstein  to  Wilson,  Feb.  22,  1934,  ibid. 

34  K.  A.  M.  Bergenstal  to  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Jan.  30,  1934,  ibid. 
85  Dave  Z.  Murphy  to  F.  D.  R.,  Jan.,  1934,  ibid. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  105 

would  be  communities  of  part-time  farmers  near  industrial  employ- 
ment. Secondly,  there  would  be  all-rural  colonies  for  resettled  sub- 
marginal  farmers.  Thirdly,  there  would  be  a  few  villages  with  newly 
decentralized  industry.  The  last  were  to  be  the  most  experimental 
and  the  most  controversial  communities.  They  included  the  com- 
munities for  stranded  coal  miners,  which  represented  a  continuation 
of  Assistant  Director  Clarence  Pickett's  work  as  head  of  the  American 
Friends  Service  Committee  and  which  were  of  particular  interest 
to  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  Louis  M.  Howe.  Wilson  also  announced  that  the 
communities  would  be  constructed  either  by  a  federal  corporation  or 
by  a  local  corporation,  both  of  which  were  being  planned.  For  the 
guidance  of  those  interested  in  specific  projects,  Wilson  stipulated 
that,  to  receive  the  division's  approval,  any  proposal  would  have  to 
have  strong  local  backing,  including  the  co-operation  and  planning 
aid  of  the  state  colleges  of  agriculture,  the  agricultural  experiment 
stations,  and  the  Extension  Service.36  At  this  time  many  local  groups 
and  committees  were  already  formulating  proposals  to  submit  to  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 

In  November,  after  a  few  projects  had  already  been  approved, 
the  division  published  its  first  information  circular,  explaining  the 
purposes  and  policies  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program.  The 
circular  contrasted  the  permanent  nature  of  subsistence  homesteads 
with  temporary  relief  schemes,  related  the  new  communities  to  a 
broader  program  of  public  housing,  national  economic  planning,  and 
population  redistribution,  and  stressed  the  experimental  and  demon- 
strational  purposes  of  the  projects.37  The  typical  community  was 
described  as  containing  from  25  to  100  families  living  on  individual 
homesteads  of  from  one  to  five  acres,  which  would  accommodate 
an  orchard,  a  vegetable  garden,  poultry,  a  pig,  and,  in  some  cases,  a 
cow.  Eventual  ownership  was  promised  for  most  colonists.  The  com- 
munity sites  were  to  be  approved  by  agricultural  experts,  and  the 
homestead  development  had  to  be  in  accordance  with  approved  plan- 
ning, architectural,  and  engineering  practices.  Houses  were  to  be 
moderate  in  cost,  but  in  conformity  with  standards  of  convenience, 

30  Progress  Report  by  M.  L.  Wilson,  Oct.  14,  1933,  ibid. 

37  U.S.  Department  of  the  Interior,  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  General 
Information  concerning  the  Purposes  and  Policies  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  (Circular  no.  1;  Washington,  Nov.  15,  1933),  pp.  1-6. 


106  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

durability,  attractiveness,  and  sanitation,  with  essential  utilities  pro- 
vided. The  homesteaders,  selected  from  low-income  groups,  were  to 
be  chosen  only  after  an  inquiry  into  character  traits,  agricultural 
fitness,  employment  prospects,  and  other  factors.  In  all  cases  the 
federal  funds  were  to  be  lent  and  not  granted,  with  repayment  over 
a  period  of  thirty  years  at  4  per  cent  interest.  The  funds  were  to  be 
lent  by  a  Federal  Subsistence  Homesteads  Corporation  to  local  cor- 
porations at  the  community  level.38 

After  an  extensive  study  of  the  many  legal  problems  involved, 
Secretary  Ickes  announced  the  formation  of  a  Federal  Subsistence 
Homesteads  Corporation  on  December  2,  1933.  Incorporated  under 
Delaware  law,  the  corporation  was  to  be  an  action  agency  for  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The  stock  was  to  be  held  in 
trust  by  Ickes.  Shortly  thereafter,  subsidiary  local  corporations  were 
formed  for  most  of  the  prospective  homestead  projects.  The  parent 
corporation  held  the  stock  issued  by  the  local  corporations  and  thus 
had  ultimate  control  over  their  policies.  This  corporate  device,  which 
had  been  suggested  to  Ickes  by  the  Attorney  General  as  early  as 
August,  1933,  was  adopted  to  meet  four  needs:  to  acquire,  hold,  and 
dispose  of  title  to  land,  buildings,  and  personal  property  and  to  enter 
contracts  with  borrowers,  purchasers,  and  architects;  to  assure  local 
administration  and  support;  to  remove  the  aura  of  paternalism  and 
to  differentiate  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities  from  relief 
projects;  and,  perhaps  most  important,  to  free  the  subsistence  home- 
steads program  from  the  procedural  technicalities  and  delays  that 
hampered  the  operations  of  a  United  States  Government  that  was  ill 
adapted  to  the  vastly  increased  activities  of  the  New  Deal  period.39 

The  corporate  device  promised  to  clear  up  some  of  the  problems 
attendant  upon  a  rather  broad  program  of  community  building  that 
had  no  well-defined  legal  basis.  Section  208  clearly  permitted  loans 
for  subsistence  homesteads;  beyond  that,  it  gave  only  the  general 
authority  for  "otherwise  aiding."  If  this  entailed  the  creation  of  com- 
plete communities  and  the  governmental  ownership  of  the  land,  Sec- 
tion 208  contained  no  provisions  to  clarify  certain  legal  points  in- 
volved. Complete  communities  create  a  large  demand  for  local  public 

S8  Ibid.,  pp.  6-12. 

39  Philip  M.  Click,  "The  Federal  Subsistence  Homestead  Program,"  Yale  Law 
Journal,  XLIV  (1935),  1332-1335. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  107 

services,  such  as  schools  and  roads.  Yet  federally  owned  property 
is  not  taxable  by  lesser  governmental  units,  while  the  subsistence 
homesteads  legislation  made  no  provision  for  payments  in  lieu  of 
taxes.  At  the  same  time  the  federal  government  was  legally  prevented 
from  building  schools,  a  function  reserved  to  the  states.  This  created 
a  dilemma  in  respect  to  the  local  acceptance  of  subsistence  homesteads 
communities.  Certainly  the  homesteaders  would  not  be  welcome  un- 
less they  paid  their  share  of  the  local  tax  burden.  In  addition,  the 
existence  of  state  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction  and  even  the  right 
to  vote  were  apparently  endangered  by  federal  ownership.  It  was 
feared  that  subsistence  homesteads  communities  would  become  fed- 
eral islands  on  the  order  of  Indian  reservations.  It  was  hoped  that  the 
locally  organized  corporations  would  permit  local  taxation  and  local 
jurisdiction.40  Later  interpretations  did  not  justify  these  hopes  in  re- 
gard to  taxation. 

The  local  corporation  appeared  to  be  an  excellent  device  for  carry- 
ing out  all  the  local  work  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
It  could  borrow  the  money,  construct  the  communities,  and  issue 
purchase  contracts  to  homesteaders.  Local  sponsors  and  prominent 
citizens  would  be  on  its  Board  of  Directors,  insuring  local  interest 
and  support.  Later,  when  the  communities  were  completed,  the  cor- 
poration could  collect  payments  from  the  homesteaders  and  manage 
the  community.  As  the  homesteaders  gained  an  equity  in  their  homes, 
they  would  be  given  the  stock  of  the  corporation,  making  them  joint 
owners  of  their  own  community.  With  its  abilities  to  use  ordinary 
business  procedures,  it  could  purchase  land  and  contract  for  con- 
struction with  much  greater  speed  than  could  the  government.  It  was 
really  the  foundation  of  Wilson's  administrative  organization.41 

The  community  projects  approved  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  exhibited  an  endless  variety.  The  first  loan  was  granted 
in  October,  1933,  to  Ralph  Borsodi's  homestead  project  in  Dayton, 
Ohio.  Borsodi  was  the  adviser  to  a  Council  of  Social  Agencies  in 
Dayton  which  already  had  planned  several  small  homestead  com- 
munities. The  ideas  back  of  these  plans  combined  the  need  for  relief 
with  Borsodi's  escapist  agrarianism  and  an  emphasis  on  self-help. 
Homesteaders  were  to  build  their  own  homes,  grow  subsistence  crops 
on  a  small  acreage,  carry  on  group  activities,  and  have  a  common 

40 Ibid.,  pp.  1345-1349,  1367.  "Ibid.,  p.  1335. 


108  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

pasture  and  wood  lot,  while  receiving  wages  for  part-time  employment 
in  Dayton.  Weaving,  sewing,  and  other  family  crafts  were  to  be  de- 
veloped. Homesteads  were  to  be  leased  to  clients  in  a  modified  single- 
tax  system.42  A  small  loan  of  $50,000  for  the  first  of  the  planned 
communities  was  all  Borsodi  ever  received  from  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads.  His  Dayton  project  was  the  only  one  in  which 
the  government  never  owned  the  land.  From  the  beginning  Borsodi 
resisted  any  federal  control  over  his  project,  desiring  financial  aid 
without  governmental  control. 

The  second  project,  also  approved  in  October,  was,  by  far,  the  most 
controversial  and  the  most  publicized  of  all  the  subsistence  home- 
steads. It  was  a  projected  community  of  200  family  units  for  stranded 
coal  miners  at  Reeds ville,  West  Virginia.  Growing  directly  from  the 
work  of  Clarence  Pickett  and  the  humanitarian  interest  of  Eleanor 
Roosevelt,  this  project,  which  was  soon  to  be  named  Arthurdale  after 
the  name  of  a  former  owner  of  the  estate,  was  the  first  to  be  de- 
veloped and  was  the  site  of  much  open  experimentation,  countless 
mistakes,  and  many  hard-learned  lessons.  It  will  receive  detailed  atten- 
tion in  a  later  chapter.  In  December,  1933,  and  January,  1934,  three 
other  stranded  workers'  communities  were  announced  by  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  These  were  Cumberland  Homesteads, 
near  Crossville,  Tennessee;  Tygart  Valley  Homesteads,  near  Elkins, 
West  Virginia;  and  Westmoreland  Homesteads,  near  Greensburg, 
Pennsylvania.  They  were  planned  for  from  250  to  300  units  each  and 
were  the  largest  of  the  subsistence  homesteads.  They  were  designed 
for  unemployed  miners  who  had  been  stranded  since  the  closing  of 
coal  mines  as  far  back  as  1920.  Tygart  Valley  was  planned  in  connection 
with  a  large  forest  area  which  promised  some  opportunity  for  em- 
ployment. The  four  stranded  communities  presented  unique  and 
almost  insurmountable  problems,  as  well  as  unending  embarrassment, 
to  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  its  successor  agencies. 
They  were  the  only  subsistence  homesteads  to  be  settled  by  destitute 
relief  clients  who  had  no  opportunity  for  employment.  Since  they 
were  planned  only  for  part-time  farming,  with  very  small  plots  of 
ground,  some  type  of  industrial  employment  was  essential.  Either  in- 
dustry had  to  move  voluntarily  to  these  communities  or  the  Division 

42  Ralph  Borsodi,  "Dayton,  Ohio,  Makes  Social  History,"  Nation,  CXXXVI 
(1933),  447-448. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  109 

of  Subsistence  Homesteads  had  to  find  some  method  of  providing 
economic  security,  else  the  homesteaders  would  remain  stranded  gov- 
ernment wards,  even  though  they  lived  in  bright  new  homes.  This 
economic  problem  was  never  solved  completely. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  community  developed  by  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  Jersey  Homesteads  near  Hightstown, 
New  Jersey.  Since  it  was  also  a  very  controversial  one,  it  too  will 
be  discussed  in  detail  in  a  later  chapter.  Two  hundred  Jewish  garment- 
workers  in  New  York  City  banded  together  to  establish  the  colony 
at  Hightstown.  Supplementing  the  funds  authorized  by  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  with  individual  contributions  of  $500 
each,  they  planned  a  co-operative  garment  factory,  a  co-operative 
farm,  and  consumer  co-operatives.  In  many  ways  Jersey  Homesteads 
was  to  be  more  of  a  garden  or  satellite  city  than  a  part-time  farm- 
ing, part-time  industrial  community.  Because  of  long  delays  in  its 
planning,  its  construction  was  entirely  carried  out  by  the  Resettlement 
Administration. 

M.  L.  Wilson  and  his  closest  advisers,  all  particularly  interested  in 
agricultural  problems,  desired  to  establish  a  few  all-rural  colonies  to 
absorb  submarginal  farmers  and  to  demonstrate  the  possibilities  of 
organized  rural  communities.  In  this  they  were  following  the  lead 
of  Elwood  Mead,  who  had  tried  to  get  the  government  to  establish 
a  few  such  colonies  in  the  South.  Since  the  University  System  of 
Georgia  already  had  made  plans  for  moving  about  500  farmers  from 
eroded,  worn-out  farms  to  new  lands  where  they  could  practice 
diversified  farming,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  an- 
nounced its  support  of  this  plan  in  January,  1934.  A  million  dollars 
was  authorized  for  the  project,  which  was  named  Piedmont  Home- 
steads. Although  over  11,000  acres  of  land  were  purchased,  Piedmont 
suffered  innumerable  delays  and  legal  difficulties.  Only  50  homestead 
units  were  completed. 

In  North  Carolina,  Hugh  MacRae,  who  for  years  had  been  trying 
to  get  governmental  support  for  his  type  of  intensively  cultivated 
farm  colonies,  succeeded  in  getting  Wilson's  approval  for  another 
proposed  million-dollar  colony.  Located  in  Pender  County,  North 
Carolina,  and  named  Penderlea  Homesteads,  MacRae's  colony  was 
planned  for  300  families  who  were  to  derive  all  their  income  from 
ten-acre  farms.  Its  turbulent  history  will  be  traced  in  a  subsequent 


110  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

chapter.  The  only  other  full-time  farming  colony,  a  small  project, 
Richton  Homesteads,  at  Richton,  Mississippi,  was  approved  in  April, 
1934,  and  actually  was  constructed  by  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion. In  Wisconsin  a  homestead  community  for  workers  in  a  national 
forest  was  planned  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  but 
later  was  turned  over  to  the  Forest  Service.  The  rural  projects  were 
defended  against  the  wrath  of  farmers  and  farming  organizations  on 
the  ground  that  they  would  produce  only  nonsurplus  crops  for  sale. 
Involved  in  them  was  an  attempt  to  convert  a  few  tenant  farmers 
into  landowners. 

Before  June  30,  1934,  which  marked  the  end  of  Wilson's  work 
in  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  an  important  change 
in  policies,  approximately  thirty-one  industrial-type  subsistence  home- 
steads were  announced,  although  of  these  only  twenty-three  were 
ever  completed.  As  a  whole,  these  were  more  successful  and  less 
controversial  than  the  stranded-workers  or  the  rural  type,  although 
much  less  publicized.  From  a  financial  standpoint,  several  of  these 
were  to  prove  the  most  successful  of  any  of  the  communities  con- 
structed by  the  New  Deal.  They  more  nearly  conformed  to  the  in- 
tentions of  the  subsistence  homesteads  legislation  and  to  the  ideas  of 
most  of  the  administrators  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program. 
In  one  sense  they  were  the  only  true  subsistence  homesteads,  com- 
bining access  to  part-time  industrial  employment  with  an  opportunity 
to  earn  a  partial  subsistence  from  the  land.  All  of  them  were  located 
within  commuting  distance  of  some  type  of  industrial  employment, 
in  either  a  small  or  large  city.  Almost  invariably  they  were  small 
communities  of  from  25  to  125  units,  with  an  average  of  from  two  to 
five  acres  to  each  homestead.  Either  as  single  colonies  or  as  a  re- 
lated group  of  colonies,  they  were  almost  always  sponsored  by  a 
local  corporation.  Beyond  these  similarities  they  offered  great  varia- 
tions, but  in  most  ways  conformed  to  the  following  official  definition 
of  a  subsistence  homestead: 

A  subsistence  homestead  denotes  a  house  and  out  buildings  located  upon 
a  plot  of  land  on  which  can  be  grown  a  large  portion  of  the  foodstuffs 
required  by  the  homestead  family.  It  signifies  production  for  home  con- 
sumption and  not  for  commercial  sale.  In  that  it  provides  for  subsistence 
alone,  it  carries  with  it  the  corollary  that  cash  income  must  be  drawn  from 
some  outside  source.  The  central  motive  of  the  subsistence  homestead  pro- 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  111 

gram,  therefore,  is  to  demonstrate  the  economic  value  of  a  livelihood  which 
combines  part-time  wage  work  and  part-time  gardening  or  farming.43 

Over  half  of  the  completed  industrial  homesteads  were  located  in 
three  groups  in  the  South.  Five  homesteads  were  secured  for  the  area 
around  Jasper  and  Birmingham,  Alabama,  perhaps  because  of  the 
influence  of  Senator  Bankhead.44  Designed  for  commuting  workers, 
they  were  handicapped  by  being  too  far  from  the  larger  cities.  One 
of  the  proposed  Alabama  colonies,  Cahaba,  was  converted  into  a 
small  greenbelt  city  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  other 
four,  Bankhead  Farms,  Greenwood  Homesteads,  Mount  Olive  Home- 
steads, and  Palmerdale  Homesteads,  were  all  semirural.  In  Texas  five 
garden  projects  of  from  50  to  100  units  each  were  developed  near 
five  cities.  These  were  Houston  Gardens  near  Houston,  Beauxart 
Gardens  near  Beaumont,  Wichita  Gardens  near  Wichita  Falls,  Three 
Rivers  Gardens  near  Three  Rivers,  and  Dalworthington  Gardens  near 
Arlington.  Three  Rivers  Gardens  involved  a  guarantee  of  part-time 
employment  by  two  local  industrialists.45  Four  of  the  smallest  com- 
munities, Tupelo,  McComb,  Hattiesburg,  and  Magnolia  Homesteads, 
were  constructed  near  Tupelo,  McComb,  Hattiesburg,  and  Meridian, 
Mississippi.  Each  of  these  contained  from  20  to  35  units,  with  a  com- 
bined total  of  only  104.  Because  of  their  small  size  and  their  proximity 
to  their  parent  cities,  they  never  became  distinct  communities  in 
themselves. 

Only  four  subsistence  homesteads  were  completed  west  of  the 
Rockies.  At  Phoenix  a  garden  community  for  300  families  was  planned, 
but  only  25  homes  were  constructed.  Although  on  plots  of  less  than 
an  acre,  the  homesteaders  shared  a  community  pasture.46  In  the 
suburbs  of  Los  Angeles,  two  communities,  El  Monte  and  San  Fer- 
nando Homesteads,  were  planned  by  local  citizens  of  Los  Angeles  as 
demonstrations  of  small  farm-home  possibilities.  Backed  by  the  Los 
Angeles  Chamber  of  Commerce  and  the  County  Planning  Board, 
planned  by  local  architects,  and  located  on  excellent  land,  they  were  to 

43  U.S.  Department  of  the  Interior,  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  Bulletin 
1  (Washington,  1934),  p.  4. 

"For  an  excellent  account  of  the  Alabama  colonies  see  Paul  W.  Wager,  One 
Foot  on  the  Soil:  A  Study  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  Alabama  (Bureau  of 
Public  Administration  at  the  University  of  Alabama,  1945). 

45  Memorandum  on  the  Texas  Project,  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

40  C.  B.  Baldwin  to  Paul  Appleby,  May  26,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 


112  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

become,  at  least  from  the  financial  standpoint,  two  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful of  the  subsistence  homesteads.  The  Los  Angeles  sponsors  did 
not  form  a  local  corporation,  desiring  federal  control  because  of  the 
avowed  demonstrational  purposes  of  the  model  communities.  Want- 
ing a  successful  demonstration  rather  than  relief,  the  communities 
were  designed  for  skilled  workers,  clerks,  and  even  retired  people. 
The  acreage  of  the  individual  homesteads  was  very  small,  being  less 
than  an  acre  at  El  Monte.47  Another  very  successful  homestead  com- 
munity was  located  partly  within  the  city  limits  of  the  relatively  new, 
planned  city  of  Longview,  Washington.  Here,  in  an  area  that  already 
contained  many  part-time  farmers  and  in  a  region  that  offered  ample 
opportunities  for  part-time  employment  in  the  lumbering  industry, 
the  sixty  homesteads  of  approximately  two  and  one-half  acres  each 
were  assured  of  success.  Longview  Homesteads  received  enthusiastic 
support  from  the  citizens  of  Longview  and  quickly  became  an  inte- 
grated part  of  the  larger  community,  being  only  a  new  and  very  at- 
tractive subdivision.48 

Five  subsistence  homesteads  were  eventually  completed  in  the 
north  central  states,  although  two  of  these,  Duluth  Homesteads, 
Duluth,  Minnesota,  and  Lake  County  Homesteads,  near  Chicago,  Il- 
linois, were  only  planned  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
and  actually  were  constructed  by  the  Resettlement  Administration. 
Austin  Homesteads  at  Austin,  Minnesota,  was  unique  in  being  located 
near  a  one-factory  town  and  in  being  sponsored  by  the  president  of 
that  one  factory,  George  A.  Hormel  of  the  Hormel  Packing  Company. 
Seventy  per  cent  of  the  homesteaders  at  Austin  were  to  be  Hormel 
employees.49  The  fact  that  M.  L.  Wilson  accepted  the  plans  of  Hormel 
and  many  other  industrialists  on  other  sponsoring  committees  re- 
flected his  belief  in  the  good  intentions  of  industrial  leaders  and  in 
the  necessity  of  co-operation  from  industry  in  setting  up  part-time 
farming,  part-time  industrial  communities.  To  some  critics  of  sub- 
sistence homesteads,  particularly  those  representing  labor,  such  com- 
munities as  Austin  were  only  proof  of  their  contention  that  the 

47  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  97-106;  U.S.  Department  of  Labor, 
Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  "Subsistence  Homesteads  for  Industrial  and  Rural 
Workers,"  Monthly  Labor  Review,  XL  (1935),  27. 

48  U.S.  Department  of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  "Housing  under  the 
Resettlement  Administration,"  Monthly  Labor  Review,  XL1V  (1937),  1393-1394. 

49  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  58-61. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  113 

subsistence  homesteads  program  was  anchoring  a  new  group  of  in- 
dustrial serfs  for  exploitation  by  business.  Located  almost  within  the 
city  of  Decatur,  Indiana,  Decatur  Homesteads,  a  small  community  of 
forty-eight  units,  was  developed  with  the  assistance  of  Purdue  Uni- 
versity. The  homesteaders  at  Decatur  were  promised  work  in  the 
local  General  Electric  Corporation  plant.50  At  Granger,  Iowa,  a  mod- 
erately successful  community  was  promoted  by  Father  Luigi  G. 
Ligutti  of  the  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference  for  part-time  coal 
miners  of  several  diverse  nationalities.  Granger  Homesteads,  which 
had  much  publicity  from  the  Catholic  press,  will  be  discussed  in 
more  detail  in  a  later  chapter. 

These  thirty-two  communities,  all  planned  by  June,  1934,  were,  except 
two,  the  only  subsistence  homesteads  ever  to  become  completed  com- 
munities, despite  the  fact  that  over  fifty  others  were  planned  and,  in  some 
cases,  land  was  purchased.  One  of  the  two  other  completed  projects, 
Shenandoah  Homesteads,  was  planned  in  June,  1934.  It  was  a  special- 
type  project  of  seven  widely  scattered  sections  to  absorb  the  mountain 
farmers  who  were  being  pushed  out  of  the  area  of  the  Shenandoah  Na- 
tional Park  in  Virginia.  As  such  it  became  a  political  liability  for  the  Re- 
settlement Administration.  The  other  project,  which  was  barely  on 
the  planning  boards  in  May,  1935,  when  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion absorbed  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  was  to  become 
the  first  Negro  subsistence  homesteads  community.  It  was  located 
near  Newport  News,  Virginia.  At  the  very  beginning  of  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  program,  M.  L.  Wilson  had  contemplated  a  loan 
to  a  community  under  construction  by  the  Tennessee  Valley  Authority 
at  Norris  Dam.51  The  loan  was  not  made,  and  Norris,  Tennessee, 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Tennessee  Valley  Authority;  it  is  the 
only  New  Deal  community  not  within  the  scope  of  this  study.  Also 
contemplated  in  the  earlier  days,  but  never  attempted,  were  some 
irrigation  communities  to  be  developed  with  the  aid  of  the  Reclama- 
tion Service.52 

One  of  the  crucial  elements  in  the  success  of  a  subsistence  home- 

50  Harold   M.   Ware  and   Webster  Powell,   "Planning  for   Permanent   Poverty: 
What  Subsistence  Farming  Really  Stands  For,"  Harper's  Magazine,  CLXX  ( 1934- 
1935),  522. 

51  M.  L.  Wilson,  Progress  Report  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads, 
Oct.  14,  1933,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

52  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  General  Information,  p.  8. 


114  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

steads  community  was  its  location,  in  regard  to  both  the  fertility  of 
the  soil  and  the  availability  of  industrial  employment.  Under  M.  L. 
Wilson  the  Washington  staff  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads did  not  select,  except  in  a  few  cases,  the  location  for  com- 
munities. This  was  left  to  the  local  sponsors.  But  before  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  would  approve  a  loan  for  a  local  project, 
the  site  had  to  be  fully  surveyed,  analyzed  by  soil  experts,  and  ex- 
pertly appraised.  As  a  result,  the  local  corporations  usually  called 
upon  the  state  agricultural  colleges  and  the  local  agricultural  ex- 
periment stations  for  assistance  in  developing  their  detailed  project 
plans.  Much  of  the  land  appraisal  was  done  by  Federal  Land  Bank 
appraisers.  Since  the  stranded  communities  grew  out  of  the  work  of 
the  American  Friends  Service  Committee,  their  locations  were  se- 
lected by  Clarence  Pickett  and  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads, with  the  aid  of  a  Committee  for  Soil  Surveys  appointed  by 
the  Department  of  Agriculture  to  assist  in  the  subsistence  home- 
steads program.53 

By  January,  1934,  nine  project  sites  had  been  laid  out.  Construction 
was  under  way  only  at  Reedsville  (Arthurdale)  and  there  without 
even  the  minimum  amount  of  planning.  The  early  site  planning 
was  done  under  the  direction  of  the  local  corporations.  At  Penderlea, 
John  Nolen,  one  of  America's  foremost  city  planners,  designed  the 
all-rural  village.  Local  architects,  assisted  by  agricultural  experts,  laid 
out  most  of  the  communities.  Construction  operations,  which  began 
on  many  of  the  projects  in  the  spring  of  1934,  soon  came  under  project 
managers  appointed  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
House  construction  at  Dayton,  Cumberland,  and  Tygart  Valley 
was  originally  carried  out  under  the  self-help  idea,  with  the  home- 
steaders building  their  own  homes.  Most  of  the  smaller,  industrial 
homesteads  were  constructed  by  contract.  Some  work  on  the  stranded 
communities  was  done  by  relief  labor  under  the  supervision  of 
project  engineers. 

One  of  the  early  policy  problems  that  led  to  endless  debate  was 
the  question  of  house  design  and  size.  The  protagonists  ranged  from 
Macfadden,  who  wanted  only  shacks,  to  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  many 
of  the  officials  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  who  wanted 

53  M.  L.  Wilson  to  Ickes,  Aug.  29,  1933,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives;  Ickes  to 
the  Acting  Secretary  of  War,  Sept.  29,  1933,  ibid. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  115 

bathrooms  and  plumbing  in  four-  or  five-room  houses.  In  general  those 
who  saw  subsistence  homesteads  as  a  relief  measure  wanted  smaller, 
cheaper  homes  than  those,  such  as  Wilson,  who  saw  them  as  demon- 
strations of  a  new  way  of  life.  Both  Ickes  and  President  Roosevelt, 
seeking  economy,  wanted  small,  inexpensive  houses  with  the  plumb- 
ing left  for  the  homesteader  to  install  later.54  Eventually  Mrs. 
Roosevelt's  ideas  were  accepted.  With  great  variations,  the  subsistence 
homesteads  houses  never  had  less  than  four  rooms  and  sometimes 
had  up  to  six;  they  were  constructed  of  durable  materials  and,  in 
all  but  one  or  two  cases,  had  bathrooms  and  electricity.  In  the  North 
they  sometimes  had  basements  and  central  heating.  Many  of  the 
local  sponsors  were  fearful  that  the  houses  were  going  to  be  so  ex- 
pensive that  the  homesteaders  would  never  be  able  to  afford  them, 
for  the  idea  of  a  possible  government  subsidy  was  not  present  in 
the  early  program.  This  fear  led,  in  a  few  cases,  to  attempts  at  ex- 
treme economy  in  construction  and  to  flimsy  houses  which  were  later 
rebuilt.  In  some  cases  the  homes  were  close  enough  to  larger  cities 
to  receive  city  water,  Decatur  and  Longview  being  good  examples.  In 
a  majority  of  cases  individual  wells  were  used.  Tygart  Valley,  Houston 
Gardens,  and  a  few  other  communities  had  central  water  systems. 
House  construction  was  usually  of  native  materials,  with  adobe  used 
in  Phoenix  Homesteads  and  Crab  Orchard  sandstone  at  Cumberland 
Homesteads.  Most  of  the  communities  were  of  frame  or  cinder-block 
construction.  In  every  colony  certain  outbuildings  were  provided, 
ranging  from  garages  in  the  garden  suburbs  to  chicken  houses,  cow 
barns,  and  washhouses  at  those  with  the  larger  acreages.  Combina- 
tion community  buildings  and  schools  were  planned  for  the  more 
isolated  communities. 

At  the  end  of  Wilson's  directorship  in  June,  1934,  there  were  no 
houses  occupied,  although  fifty  homes  were  almost  completed  at 
Arthurdale.  The  problem  of  selecting  homesteaders  had  already  be- 
gun. In  some  areas,  as  where  the  homesteaders  were  building  their 
own  homes,  the  selection  or  tentative  selection  was  necessary  very 
early.  Wilson  turned  the  selection  duties  over  to  the  local  corpora- 
tions, but  suggested  certain  procedures.  He  advised  the  appointment 
of  local  selection  committees,  the  use  of  experienced  investigators, 

54  Harold  L.  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary  of  Harold  L.  Ickes,  vol.  I,  The  First  Thou- 
sand Days,  1933-1936  (New  York,  1953),  pp.  227-228. 


116  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

an  adequate  familiarization  program  for  applicants,  and  the  require- 
ment of  certain  qualifications  as  to  background,  particularly  in  re- 
gard to  farming  experience,  health,  habits,  stability,  and  financial 
status.55  By  June,  1934,  the  selection  process  had  been  federalized  to 
the  extent  that  local  selections  were  approved  at  Washington.  At 
that  time  145  homesteaders  had  been  definitely  approved  and  618 
tentatively  approved  out  of  13,934  applicants  for  2,176  homesteads.56 
The  first  serious  impediment  to  the  subsistence  homesteads  pro- 
gram came  from  Congress  in  February,  1934.  In  October,  1933,  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  had  hoped  to  complete  the  con- 
struction of  at  least  a  few  houses  at  Arthurdale  before  the  winter. 
Since  no  industry  had  shown  any  intention  of  establishing  a  factory 
at  Arthurdale,  the  division  sought  some  other  means  of  securing  em- 
ployment opportunities.  The  Post  Office  Department  agreed  to  manu- 
facture certain  postal  equipment,  including  hardware  and  furniture, 
in  a  factory  to  be  established  at  Arthurdale  with  Public  Works  Ad- 
ministration funds.  The  Post  Office  Department  had  been  allotted 
$525,000  for  the  factory,  had  selected  a  site,  and  had  drawn  plans  by 
February,  1934.  When  the  plans  were  made  public  several  furniture 
manufacturers  took  alarm,  accusing  the  government  of  using  tax 
funds  to  compete  against  private  enterprise.  Ickes  argued  that  the 
factory  would  be  used  only  as  a  yardstick  to  determine  if  the  gov- 
ernment was  paying  too  much  for  its  postal  supplies.  The  argument 
was  then  transferred  to  Congress,  with  congressmen  from  furniture 
manufacturing  regions  leading  a  campaign  against  the  proposed  fac- 
tory for  Arthurdale.  Congress  had  no  way  of  preventing  the  Public 
Works  Administration  from  allotting  funds  for  a  factory,  but  it  could 
prevent  any  Post  Office  appropriations  from  being  used  in  the  West 
Virginia  factory.  Representative  Louis  Ludlow  of  Indiana,  the  con- 
gressman most  incensed  at  the  factory  plan,  introduced  a  restrictive 
amendment  to  the  Post  Office  Department  appropriation  prohibiting 
any  expenditure  for  the  manufacture  of  postal  supplies  outside  of 
Washington,  D.C.,  where  the  Post  Office  Department  was  already  in 

55  John  B.  Holt,  An  Analysis  of  Methods  and  Criteria  Used  in  Selecting  Families 
for  Colonization  Projects  (Social  Research  Report  no.  1,  U.S.  Department  of 
Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Eco- 
nomics; Washington,  1937),  pp.  36-37. 

58  Report  of  Operations  Section,  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  June  30, 
1934,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  117 

the  mailbag  business.  The  amendment,  which  passed  by  voice  vote, 
killed  the  plan  for  Arthurdale  unless  the  Senate  rejected  the  amend- 
ment.57 Ludlow  declared  that  the  proposed  plant  involved  the  eventual 
destruction  of  private  business  and  violated  "fundamental  American 
philosophy."  58  Representative  Daniel  Reed  of  New  York  pointed  to 
former  legislation  preventing  government  competition  with  business, 
to  the  idle  furniture  factories  all  over  the  nation,  and  to  the  ir- 
responsible bureaucrats  who  desired  the  "nationalization  of  indus- 
try." 59 

In  the  Senate  an  almost  unnoticed  move  to  strike  out  the  House 
restriction  was  challenged  by  Senator  Arthur  Vandenberg  of  Michi- 
gan, precipitating  a  floor  debate,  with  the  proposed  factory  being 
defended  by  Senator  Kenneth  D.  McKellar  of  Tennessee,  chairman 
of  the  Appropriations  Committee.  Vandenberg  declared,  with  some 
reason,  that  the  question  at  issue  was  whether  or  not  the  federal 
government  should  "embark  upon  an  experiment  in  creating  industrial 
communities  under  the  subsistence  plan."  60  He  asked  if  the  Senate 
wanted  the  government  to  enter  this  new  field  of  business.  The  most 
resounding  "No"  came  from  a  Democrat,  Senator  Josiah  W.  Bailey 
of  North  Carolina.  He  believed  that  approval  of  the  factory  would 
be  the  beginning  of  a  process  leading  to  government  control  of  all 
industry,  to  a  complete  bureaucracy,  to  the  overturn  of  all  liberties, 
and  to  the  absolute  subversion  of  free  government.61  Other  Senators 
countered  his  argument  by  pointing  to  the  sorry  record  of  private 
enterprise  in  running  business.  One  Senator  asked  how  anyone  could 
be  put  to  work  without  competing  with  someone.62  By  a  vote  of  34 
to  29  the  Senate  reversed  the  House  decision  and  approved  the  fac- 
tory. The  House  promptly  refused  to  concur  in  the  Senate  action  by 
an  overwhelming  vote  of  274  to  111.  The  Senate  could  only  concede 
after  this  overwhelming  expression  of  House  sentiment.63  Thus  it 
was  determined  that,  although  the  government  might  build  sub- 
sistence homesteads  and  hope  for  industry  to  come,  it  could  not  pro- 
vide industry,  at  least  not  directly  or  openly. 

This  action  by  Congress  should  not  be  construed  as  an  attack  on 
subsistence  homesteads.  Most  of  the  congressmen  showed  little  fa- 

57C.R,  73d  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1934,  pp.  1431-1432.  "Ibid.,  p.  1359. 

59 Ibid.,  p.  1272.  "Ibid.,  p.  2754.  "Ibid.,  p.  2756. 

62  Ibid.,  pp.  2759,  3429.  « Ibid.,  pp.  3433,  3902. 


118  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

miliarity  with  the  subsistence  homesteads  program,  and  very  few  of 
them  showed  any  animosity  toward  it.  Many  expressed  sympathy 
for  the  objectives  of  the  over-all  program.  The  most  bitter  attack 
against  subsistence  homesteads  came  from  Senator  Thomas  D.  Schall 
of  Minnesota,  who  referred  to  Arthurdale  as  the  "communist  project" 
and  the  "West  Virginia  commune."  64  On  the  other  side,  Representa- 
tive Jennings  Randolph  from  the  Arthurdale  District  was  a  consistent 
defender  of  the  whole  subsistence  homesteads  program.  He  even  tried, 
unsuccessfully,  to  get  a  separate  bill  passed  to  authorize  the  Post 
Office  factory  at  Arthurdale.65  By  far  the  most  fervent  supporter  of 
subsistence  homesteads  was  Representative  Ernest  W.  Marland,  who 
envisioned  subsistence  homesteads  communities  in  every  county  of 
his  home  state  of  Oklahoma.  He  desired  an  appropriation  of  $4,000,- 
000,000  for  subsistence  homesteads,  stressing  that  the  back-to-the-land 
movement  "must  succeed,  or  we  are  all  lost." 66  Before  retiring  to 
Oklahoma  to  run  for  governor  and  work  for  subsistence  homesteads, 
Marland  gave  the  following  picture  of  a  subsistence  farm: 

A  small  farm  with  a  wood  lot  for  fuel,  a  pasture  for  cows,  an  orchard 
with  hives  of  bees,  a  dozen  acres  or  so  of  plow  land,  and  a  garden  for 
berries  and  annual  vegetable  crops. 

There  is  always  plenty  on  a  farm  such  as  this. 

In  winter  a  fat  hog  hangs  in  the  smokehouse  and  from  the  cellar  come 
jellies  and  jams  and  preserves,  canned  fruits,  and  dried  vegetables.  In  the 
summer  there  is  a  succession  of  fresh  fruits  from  the  orchard  and  fresh 
vegetables  from  the  garden. 

There  is  always  comfort  on  this  farm. 

The  pure  air,  the  deep  silence  of  the  night,  the  healthful  outdoor  work, 
all  make  for  sound  and  restful  sleep. 

The  house  is  tight  against  the  wind  and  rain;  wood  fires  keep  it  warm  in 
winter,  trees  and  vines  shade  it  in  summer.  The  furniture  is  not  overstuffed, 
nor  is  it  covered  with  tapestry,  but  it  is  made  to  be  comfortable.67 

When  the  local  corporations  were  set  up  it  was  assumed,  under 
advisement  from  the  Solicitor  of  the  Department  of  the  Interior,  that 
the  local  groups  were  not  accountable  to  the  General  Accounting 
Office  for  expenditures  and  that  the  government  was  not  accountable 
for  any  claims  against  the  local  corporations.  This  assumption  was 
based  on  a  past  ruling  in  relation  to  the  Emergency  Fleet  Corporation 

64  Ibid.,  p.  7738.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  7194,  10852-10854. 

"Ibid.,  pp.  7353-7354.  m  Ibid.,  p.  7081. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  119 

of  World  War  I.  The  inability  of  the  local  corporations  to  conform  to 
the  complicated  and  time-consuming  accounting  procedures  of  regu- 
lar government  agencies  was  recognized.  On  January  3,  1934,  how- 
ever, President  Roosevelt  ruled  that  government  corporations  had  to 
render  their  accounts  to  the  General  Accounting  Office  if  not  pro- 
vided otherwise  by  law.68  On  January  11,  1934,  Comptroller  General 
John  R.  McCarl  ruled  that  a  Public  Works  Administration  housing 
corporation  had  to  conform  to  standard  accounting  procedures  and 
finally,  on  March  15,  1934,  ruled  that  the  local  subsistence  home- 
steads corporations  would  have  to  deposit  their  borrowed  funds  with 
the  United  States  Treasurer  and  use  standard  disbursing  and  account- 
ing procedures.69  This  represented  only  the  beginning  of  a  series  of 
adverse  decisions  by  McCarl  that  restricted  and  at  times  almost 
blocked  the  work  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  An 
angered  Ickes  described  McCarl  as  "not  only  a  Republican,  but  .  .  . 
a  reactionary  Republican."  70 

The  decision  by  McCarl  was  not  merely  a  legal  obstacle.  By  requir- 
ing the  same  accounting  procedure  from  the  local  corporations  as 
from  government  agencies,  McCarl  nullified  one  of  the  primary  pur- 
poses of  the  corporate  device.  He  also  made  it  almost  impossible  to 
use  the  local  corporations  in  other  than  an  advisory  capacity.  This 
threatened  the  whole  policy  of  decentralized  administration  which 
was  at  the  foundation  of  Wilson's  entire  program.  On  March  19,  1934, 
Wilson  reluctantly  outlined  a  new  plan  of  administration,  which  en- 
tailed complete  control  over  the  local  projects  by  the  Federal  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  Corporation.  The  project  manager  was  to  con- 
trol each  project,  and  accountants  were  to  be  assigned  to  each  project. 
The  local  corporation  would  act  as  an  advisory  board,  while  educa- 
tional and  cultural  activities  could  be  aided  by  local  co-operation.71 
Wilson  would  have  liked  to  devise  some  legal  method  of  continuing 
local  control,  for  on  the  question  of  local  planning  he  was  most 
adamant.  The  legal  staff  of  the  division  believed  that  there  was  no 
question  that  the  local  corporations  could  continue  to  make  policy 
decisions.72 

08  Click,  "The  Federal  Subsistence  Homesteads  Program,"  pp.  1339-1384. 

09  McCarl  to  Ickes,  March  15,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

70  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary,  I,  335. 

71  Wilson  to  Ickes,  March  19,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 
73  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  47. 


120  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

The  question  of  local  versus  federal  control  led  to  the  first  major 
policy  and  administrative  change  in  the  subsistence  homesteads 
program.  Unfortunately  for  the  local  projects,  it  was  not  the  last. 
Ickes,  despite  his  resentment  over  McCarl's  interferences,  had  long 
deplored  the  decentralized  administration  of  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads.  Nor  did  he  think  highly  of  Wilson  as  an  ad- 
ministrator or  executive,  and  he  disliked  some  of  Wilson's  appointees. 
In  January,  Ickes  forbade  any  appointment  at  the  local  level,  requir- 
ing all  applications  to  be  cleared  through  him.73  By  March  he  was 
bringing  pressure  on  Wilson  and  his  staff  to  abandon  completely 
the  decentralized  administrative  structure.  By  an  order  of  May  12, 
1934,  Ickes  abolished  all  control  by  the  local  corporations  and  com- 
pletely federalized  the  subsistence  homesteads  program.74  By  this 
time  there  was  a  well-defined  break  between  Ickes  and  the  personnel 
of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  springing  from  a  variance 
in  philosophy  as  well  as  from  disagreements  over  administrative  de- 
vices. 

Ickes  came  to  Washington  after  long  experience  in  political  reform 
in  Chicago,  a  large  city.  Wilson  was  a  farm  leader,  having  dealt 
with  farm  people  most  of  his  life.  This  difference  in  background  may 
explain  their  basic  disagreements.  Ickes  tried  personally  to  supervise 
all  expenditures  and  was  constantly  on  the  watch  for  graft,  which,  to 
him,  was  lurking  behind  every  corner.  He  strongly  believed  that 
authority  had  to  go  along  with  responsibility  if  efficiency  and  economy 
were  to  be  the  end  results.  He  was  sincerely  worried  about  the  pos- 
sibility of  competently  executing  the  subsistence  homesteads  pro- 
gram when  important  policy  decisions  were  being  made  by  several 
local  groups  which,  not  having  any  direct  financial  interest  in  the 
projects,  would  certainly  not  make  the  type  of  decisions  best  designed 
for  governmental  economy.  Ickes  was  a  bureaucrat  who,  in  a  time 
when  government  spending  was  loosely  controlled,  kept  his  own  ad- 
ministrative purse  tightly  locked.  No  scandal  plagued  his  Public  Works 
Administration,  but  Ickes  believed  that  scandal  threatened  the  Divi- 
sion of  Subsistence  Homesteads  because  of  the  loose  way  money  was 
being  spent.  Since  it  was  often  impossible  to  have  an  accurate  account 

73  Ickes  to  Wilson,  Jan.  22,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

74  Unpublished  first  draft  of  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  R.G.  83, 
National  Archives. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  121 

of  how  funds  were  being  spent  at  the  local  level,  the  way  seemed 
open  for  all  kinds  of  graft  and  reckless  inefficiency.  The  only  solu- 
tion was  to  centralize  the  administration  and  tighten  the  controls. 

Wilson  trusted  his  appointees  and  gave  them  responsibility.  He 
characteristically  remarked  that  Ickes  could  never  realize  that  "these 
farmers  could  be  trusted/'75  for  Wilson's  basic  philosophy  and  his 
experience  both  pointed  to  the  "good  will"  of  most  men.  Perhaps 
Ickes'  experience  did  not.  In  any  case  Wilson  was  sure  that  other 
things  were  more  vital  than  economy  or  efficiency,  although  he  cer- 
tainly desired  these  too.  He  believed  that  a  subsistence  homesteads 
program  controlled  and  directed  from  Washington,  even  if  efficient 
in  the  beginning,  would  not  be  democratic  and,  in  the  long  run, 
would  fail  because  it  would  involve  the  imposition  of  the  foreign 
ideas  and  values  of  a  far-off  official  upon  the  various  and  different 
values  of  the  local  area.  It  would  mean  experts  from  Washington, 
however  honest  and  idealistic,  making  decisions  that  vitally  affected 
the  lives  of  other  individuals  who,  though  most  concerned,  had  no 
responsibility  in  making  the  decisions.  To  Wilson  the  subsistence 
homesteads  projects,  if  they  were  to  become  real  communities,  had 
to  be  wanted,  planned,  and  managed  by  the  people  within  the  lo- 
cality where  they  were  to  be  constructed.76  To  him,  planning  had  to 
be  democratic  planning. 

Under  the  local  corporations  all  had  not  been  perfect,  or  demo- 
cratic. Frequently  the  leading  citizens  on  local  sponsoring  committees 
were  far  removed  from  the  circumstances  and  problems  of  the  home- 
steaders, often  advocating  not  what  the  homesteaders  wanted  but 
what  they  wanted  for  the  homesteaders.  The  danger  of  charitable 
paternalism  was  always  present.  In  several  cases  the  projects  were 
practically  controlled  by  one  person,  who  had  his  own  set  ideas  on 
what  a  subsistence  homestead  should  be  and  heeded  the  wishes  of 
neither  the  homesteaders,  the  other  local  citizens,  nor  the  officials 
of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.77  This  was  particularly 
true  at  Dayton,  Penderlea,  and  Jersey  Homesteads.  Many  local  cor- 
porations, working  under  certain  assumptions  about  the  subsistence 

75  Author's  interview  with  M.  L.  Wilson  on  June  29,  1956. 
70  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  45. 

77  Memorandum  from  Frederic  Howe  to  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  May  17,  1935, 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


122  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

homesteads  program  or  working  with  an  ignorance  about  the  whole 
program,  made  decisions  that  hurt  the  chances  of  success  for  indi- 
vidual projects.  A  good  example  was  the  Birmingham  projects  which, 
in  order  to  save  money  on  the  land  purchases,  were  located  much 
too  far  from  the  city.  In  some  cases  the  prices  paid  for  land  were 
too  high;  in  other  cases  administrative  expenses  were  huge.  Beyond 
all  that,  a  Washington  representative  on  each  local  board  of  directors 
was  very  powerful.  Since  all  plans  had  to  be  approved  at  Washing- 
ton, he  was  often  the  determining  factor  in  decisions.78 

The  one  project  that  gave  Ickes  the  most  headaches,  and  the  one 
that,  more  than  any  other,  precipitated  the  arguments  over  federaliza- 
tion,  was  Arthurdale.  Here  the  "villains"  were,  to  Ickes,  Mrs.  Roose- 
velt and  Louis  M.  Howe.  Working  as  members  of  an  Arthurdale 
Committee,  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  Howe,  according  to  Ickes,  virtually 
took  over  the  project,  "spending  money  like  drunken  sailors."  79  Be- 
cause of  early  mistakes  and  because  of  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  insistence 
on  expensive  homes,  Ickes  believed  that  each  homestead  was  going 
to  cost  $10,000  rather  than  the  $2,500  to  $3,000  originally  planned. 
The  adverse  publicity  at  Arthurdale  plagued  Ickes,  who  believed 
that  popular  support  depended  on  economy.80  He  tried  to  remedy 
the  situation  by  personal  intervention,  which  resulted  in  unpleasant 
feelings  between  him  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt.  Meanwhile  Wilson  main- 
tained a  friendly  relationship  with  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  appreciated 
both  the  humanitarian  and  experimental  nature  of  her  work  at  Arthur- 
dale.  Ickes  carried  his  problems  to  President  Roosevelt,  who  appar- 
ently sympathized  with  Ickes'  desires  for  economy.  All  these  misun- 
derstandings helped  make  Wilson's  time  in  the  Department  of  the 
Interior  far  from  pleasant.  When  the  projects  were  ordered  federal- 
ized,  he  decided  to  go  back  to  the  friendly  environs  of  the  Department 
of  Agriculture  as  of  June  30,  1934.  Here  he  became  Assistant  Secre- 
tary and,  later,  Undersecretary  of  Agriculture.  Leaving  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  with  Wilson  were  most  of  his  assistants 
who  were  of  an  agricultural  background,  including  Carl  C.  Taylor. 

The  federalization  order  dashed  the  plans  and  hopes  of  many  local 
groups,  leaving  a  legacy  of  bitterness  at  many  projects.81  Whatever 

78  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  46. 

79  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary,  I,  207.  *  Ibid.,  p.  162. 

81  George  S.  Wehrwein,  "Appraisal  of  Resettlement,"  Journal  of  Farm  Eco- 
nomics, XIX  (1937),  192-193. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  123 

the  relative  merits  of  decentralized  or  centralized  control,  the  sudden 
shift  of  policy  seriously  prejudiced  the  popularity  of  subsistence  home- 
steads. A  few  of  the  more  doctrinaire  project  sponsors  fought  back. 
Borsodi,  at  Dayton,  refused  to  have  his  project  federalized  and 
brought  suit  against  the  Federal  Subsistence  Homesteads  Corpora- 
tion for  breach  of  contract.  The  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
decided  to  honor  the  loan  contract  with  Borsodi's  group,  allowing 
the  project  to  continue  under  local  direction.  On  his  part,  Borsodi 
withdrew  his  suit  for  the  money  already  allotted  for  four  additional 
homestead  tracts  at  Dayton.82  In  his  arguments,  Borsodi  declared  that 
the  federalized  projects  would  now  become  federal  islands,  without 
voting  rights  or  state  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction.  This  fear  was  not 
justified  by  the  experiences  of  the  other  projects.  At  Dayton  the  twenty 
families  already  on  the  project  continued  to  milk  their  goats,  work 
their  looms,  and  build  their  own  homes,  while  temporarily  living 
in  tents  and  grass  huts.  A  disgusted  Borsodi  went  home  to  New 
York.83  Meanwhile  the  University  of  Georgia  began  withdrawing 
from  the  Piedmont  project,  while  an  angered  Hugh  MacRae  at 
Penderlea  appealed  to  President  Roosevelt  for  a  conference  to  settle 
the  federalization  issue.  Numerous  sponsors,  summarily  dismissed 
from  any  actual  control,  felt  rebuffed  and  did  not  continue  their 
support  of  local  projects. 

The  federalization  order  left  local  projects  more  open  to  the  criti- 
cism of  newspapers.  The  early  sentiment  in  local  newspapers  had  been 
preponderantly  favorable  to  subsistence  homesteads,  perhaps  partly 
because  they  were  sponsored  by  leading  citizens.  The  earliest  criti- 
cism, some  of  it  very  bitter,  came  from  farm  organizations  and  from 
labor  spokesmen.  The  farmers  could  point  to  the  apparent  incon- 
sistency of  production  controls  and,  at  the  same  time,  new  farming 
colonies.  Although  Edward  O'Neal  was  on  the  Advisory  Committee 
for  Subsistence  Homesteads,  the  American  Farm  Bureau  was  opposing 
any  additional  subsistence  homesteads  communities  as  early  as  De- 
cember, 1934.84  Several  critics  representing  the  viewpoint  of  laborers 

82  Charles  E.  Pynchon  to  Ickes,  June  25,   1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives; 
Pynchon  to  Ebert  K.  Burlew,  June  6,  1934,  ibid. 

83  "Homesteading   Comes    A-Cropper   in    Dayton,"   Architectural   Forum,    LXI 
(1934),  142-143. 

84  American  Farm  Bureau  Federation,  "Editorial,"  Official  News  Letter,  XIII 
(Dec.  18,  1934),  2-4. 


124  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

saw  subsistence  homesteads  as  a  means  of  "planning  for  permanent 
poverty,"  with  the  government  providing  cheap  labor  for  industrial- 
ists.85 Louis  M.  Hacker,  a  historian,  feared  that  the  "American  Gov- 
ernment, hard  driven  by  the  contradictions  of  its  own  position,  may 
even  (as  in  Italy  and  Germany)  seek  to  build  up  exactly  such  a  shel- 
tered peasant  group  as  a  rural  reactionary  bloc  to  withstand  the 
revolutionary  demands  of  the  organized  industrial  workers." 86  At- 
tacking the  whole  idea  of  subsistence  homesteads,  Alvin  Johnson, 
an  economist  and  director  of  the  New  School  for  Social  Research, 
shrewdly  surmised  that  the  "worker  ought  to  be  happier,  living 
in  his  own  garden,  pulling  weeds  with  his  wife  and  children  on 
Saturday  afternoons  instead  of  going  to  the  movies.  The  family  ought 
to  be  happier,  but  'ought'  is  an  obsolete  word."  87  As  the  construction 
phase  began,  another  group  of  critics  were  to  have  their  heyday. 
Those  who  disliked  the  New  Deal  or  those  who  opposed  any  type 
of  governmental  planning  were  to  make  effective  use  of  every  mis- 
take at  Arthurdale  or  elsewhere.  This  criticism  began  as  early  as 
August,  1934,  with  a  Saturday  Evening  Post  article  which  considerably 
embarrassed  Ickes  by  pointing  out  the  many  foolish  errors  made  at 
Arthurdale.88 

In  May,  1934,  Ickes  had  moved  Charles  E.  Pynchon  from  the 
Public  Works  Administration  to  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads to  be  business  manager  of  the  Federal  Subsistence  Home- 
steads Corporation.  Ickes  hoped  that  Pynchon,  a  housing  expert  and 
businessman,  would  get  the  division  on  a  more  efficient  basis.89 
Upon  the  resignation  of  Wilson  in  June,  Pynchon  became  the  new 
Director,  bringing  with  him  a  largely  new  staff  and  a  new  emphasis 
on  the  housing  and  administrative  aspects  of  subsistence  homesteads, 
although  without  reversing  the  original  purposes  of  the  program.  At 
the  time  Pynchon  took  over  the  division,  the  administrative  staff  oc- 
cupied three  floors  of  the  Architects  Building  and  numbered  over 

85  Ware  and  Powell,  "Planning  for  Permanent  Poverty,"  p.  515. 

86  Louis  M.  Hacker,  "Plowing  the  Farmer  Under,"  Harper's  Magazine,  CLXIX 
(1934),  73-74. 

87  Alvin   Johnson,    "Homesteads    and    Subsistence   Homesteads,"   Yale   Review, 
XXIV  (1934-1935),  439. 

^Wesley   Stout,   "The   New   Homesteaders,"   Saturday   Evening   Post,   CCVII 
(Aug.  4,  1934),  5-7,  61-62,  64-65. 
89  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary,  I,  206-207. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  125 

300  people.  The  total  administrative  expenses  under  Wilson  had 
been  only  $225,655.29.  As  of  June  30,  1934,  funds  had  already  been 
advanced  to  twenty-seven  projects;  house  construction  was  under 
way  on  nine  projects.  The  division  had  provided  employment  for 
1,851  persons  in  other  than  administrative  capacities.90 

The  federalization  order  required  a  complete  organizational  change 
in  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  Although  project  plans 
submitted  by  local  groups  were  still  considered,  a  Planning  Section 
was  established  to  take  the  lead  in  initiating  new  projects.  Under  its 
direction  several  new  projects  were  in  the  planning  stage  by  May, 
1935,  when  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  absorbed 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  A  Construction  Section  was  or- 
ganized to  direct  the  projects'  physical  development.  An  Operations 
Section,  which  controlled  the  administrative  problems  of  each  local 
project,  directed  the  all-important  project  managers,  who  had  primary 
responsibility  for  the  individual  projects.  Since  a  few  projects  were 
nearly  completed  by  October,  1934,  a  Community  Development  Sec- 
tion was  established  to  guide  and  direct  the  new  communities.  On 
the  unfinished  projects  the  project  managers  supervised  the  archi- 
tects, accountants,  engineers,  and  city  planners.  As  projects  were  oc- 
cupied, the  project  managers  were  replaced  by  community  managers, 
who  were  assisted  by  farm  and  home  supervisors,  by  educational  ad- 
visers, and,  at  Arthurdale,  by  several  additional  employees,  including 
a  project  nurse.91 

During  the  last  months  of  the  existence  of  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads,  from  June  30,  1934,  to  May  15,  1935,  the  prin- 
cipal activity  was  the  continued  construction  of  the  communities 
initiated  under  M.  L.  Wilson.  The  federalization  order  often  oc- 
casioned an  extensive  delay,  either  to  revise  project  plans  or  to  get 
the  new  administrative  machinery  working.  Despite  his  high  hopes 
for  Pynchon,  Ickes  soon  decided  that,  despite  his  good  intentions, 
loyalty,  and  hard  work,  Pynchon  was  no  more  efficient  than  Wilson, 
since  expenses  remained  much  too  high  on  the  projects.  To  Ickes, 

90  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  Report  for  the  End  of  1934,  R.G.,  96, 
National  Archives;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  48. 

91  U.S.  Department  of  the  Interior,  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  A  Home- 
stead and  a  Hope  ( Washington,  1935 ) ,  p.  13;  Pynchon  to  All  Employees,  Oct.  22, 
1934,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Divisional  Notice  no.  22,  Oct.  22,  1934,  ibid. 


126  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Pynchon  seemed  in  a  daze,  unable  to  answer  questions  or  grasp  the 
details  about  the  projects.92 

By  May,  1935,  there  were  only  466  families  living  in  subsistence 
homesteads  on  eleven  projects.  After  federalization,  these  home- 
steaders had  been  selected  by  a  special  committee  at  Washington 
from  recommendations  made  by  local  committees.  Selection  criteria 
included  citizenship,  children  in  the  family  (or  a  couple  young 
enough  to  have  children),  physical  ability  to  do  farm  work,  farming 
experience,  and  an  income  under  $1,200  a  year.  The  last  requirement 
was  often  violated  in  practice,  with  over  half  the  homesteaders  at  one 
project  having  incomes  in  excess  of  $1,200.93  In  almost  all  cases  the 
tendency  was  to  select  homesteaders  who,  both  character-wise  and 
financially,  seemed  most  able  to  meet  payments  and  to  contribute 
to  the  success  of  the  community.  As  the  subsistence  homesteads 
communities  began  filling  with  people,  it  was  very  obvious  that  they 
were  not  experiments  in  relief,  much  to  the  surprise  of  many  people. 

One  irksome  problem  confronted  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  was  that  of  land  tenure.  Since  the  single-tax  ideas  of 
Henry  George,  most  community  planners,  even  including  the  rabid 
agrarians,  had  desired  some  limitation  on  fee  simple  or  unrestricted 
landownership.  But  just  as  persistently,  most  Americans  had  con- 
tinued to  accept  fee  simple  ownership  as  an  essential  part  of  the 
American  way  of  life  and  were  either  unaware  of,  or  unconcerned 
about,  such  possible  evils  as  speculation,  high  land  prices,  and  un- 
controlled exploitation  of  land  resources.  Even  the  limited  restric- 
tions imposed  by  zoning  laws  had  been,  and  still  are,  viewed  with 
alarm  and  apprehension  by  many  Americans  who,  with  at  least  a 
sentimental  attachment  to  a  rural  past,  can  hardly  adjust  to  the 
more  necessary  socialization  of  a  close-living,  urbanized  present. 
Thus  the  agricultural  economists  and  social  planners  were  usually  at 
odds  with  the  broader  public  on  this  important  question.  Because 
of  the  avowed  experimental  and  demonstrational  nature  of  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  communities,  most  officials  of  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads  felt  that,  despite  the  expressed  desire  of  most 

92  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary,  I,  205-207. 

93  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  A  Homestead  and  a  Hope,  pp.  15-16; 
An   Office   Record,   Division   of   Subsistence   Homesteads,   dated   Feb.    11,    1935, 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  100,  164- 
165,  172. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  127 

homesteaders  for  free  title  to  their  small  estates,  something  less  than 
fee  simple  ownership  would  be  necessary  to  assure  the  success  of  the 
experiments  and  also  to  protect  the  real  interests  of  the  homesteader. 
It  seemed  that  free  titles  would  quickly  lead  to  speculation  in  both 
land  and  homes,  especially  in  light  of  the  probable  increase  in  land 
values  near  the  new  communities.  This  would  destroy  the  economic 
and  aesthetic  design  of  the  communities,  lead  to  exploitation  of  some 
homesteaders,  and  enrich  other  individuals  who  were  not  supposed  to 
be  aided  by  the  program.  Yet  the  homesteaders  wanted  the  security 
and  independence  that  they  believed  could  come  only  with  complete 
ownership.  Moreover,  Section  208  provided  money  for  "the  purchase" 
of  subsistence  homesteads.  From  earlier  congressional  debates  it  was 
evident  that  the  members  of  Congress,  just  as  much  as  the  home- 
steaders, put  a  great  value  on  landownership. 

The  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  solved  this  dilemma  by 
a  compromise.  It  announced  that,  in  all  but  the  stranded  communi- 
ties, the  homesteader  would  be  permitted  to  purchase  his  own  home 
within  a  thirty-year  period  at  3  per  cent  interest,  without  any  down 
payment.  But  the  homesteader  could  not  receive  title  to  his  land  until 
he  had  paid  three-fourths  of  the  purchase  price  and,  in  no  case,  not 
until  after  five  years.  This  meant  government  control  for  anywhere 
from  five  to  twenty- two  years,  yet  partially  appeased  the  proponents 
of  fee  simple.  Actually,  since  no  communities  were  completed  when 
the  Resettlement  Administration  absorbed  the  subsistence  home- 
steads in  May,  1935,  all  homesteaders  were  under  temporary  licens- 
ing agreement.94 

From  the  beginning  of  subsistence  homesteads,  M.  L.  Wilson  and 
others  had  stressed  the  community  aspects  of  the  program.  They  had 
consciously  aimed  at  something  more  than  a  group  of  carefully  engi- 
neered and  designed  rural  houses  located  in  a  rather  odd,  city-rural 
pattern.  Thus  they  put  their  greatest  emphasis  on  the  educative  in- 
fluence of  subsistence  homesteads,  desiring  to  develop  a  new  com- 
munity life,  with  community  or  social  attitudes  to  replace  extreme 
individualism,  with  a  greater  emphasis  on  creative  endeavor,  such  as 
handicrafts,  with  less  social  competition  and  more  stability  and  se- 

94  Resettlement  Administration,  Division  of  Land  Utilization,  Land  Use  Plan- 
ning Section,  "Resettlement  Policy  and  Procedure:  Suggestions,"  manuscript  in 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives,  p.  73. 


128  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

curity,  and,  capping  it  all,  with  as  many  as  possible  of  the  community 
activities  organized  on  a  co-operative  rather  than  a  competitive  basis. 
As  some  of  the  communities  neared  completion,  the  Community  De- 
velopment Section  assumed  the  task  of  converting  a  group  of  houses 
and  a  group  of  homesteaders  into  a  community.  It  also  had  the  task 
of  developing  an  adequate  economic  life  for  the  communities,  which 
was  a  near  impossibility  in  the  stranded  communities.  The  Community 
Development  Section  contained  specialists  in  education,  co-operation, 
insurance,  home  management,  gardening,  agriculture,  and  industry.95 
It  approved  the  selection  of  settlers,  educated  and  supervised  the 
homesteaders  in  their  new  enterprises,  provided  educational  services 
for  adults  and  children,  directed  the  health  and  welfare  services, 
guided  the  social  and  recreational  activities,  and  supervised  and  as- 
sisted in  the  organization  of  co-operatives.96  Actually  this  work  in 
community  building  was  barely  started  by  the  time  the  subsistence 
homesteads  were  transferred  to  the  Resettlement  Administration,  since 
only  eleven  projects  were  then  partially  completed.  For  this  reason 
it  may  be  best  studied,  from  other  than  the  standpoint  of  administra- 
tive organization,  along  with  the  similar  work  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration. 

Federalization  did  not  free  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
from  further  legal  entanglements.  A  ruling  by  the  Solicitor  of  the 
Department  of  the  Interior  in  November,  1934,  stressed  the  fact  that 
Section  208  specifically  provided  aid  for  the  redistribution  of  popula- 
tion in  industrial  centers  and  not  for  resettlement  of  farmers.97  This 
almost  outlawed  the  all-rural  colonies,  since  most  of  the  home- 
steaders had  been  farmers  and  had  not  lived  in  industrial  centers.98 
The  Solicitor  also  cast  doubt  on  the  legality  of  the  stranded  workers' 
communities.  These  rulings  meant  that  the  subsistence  homesteads 
program  would  have  to  be  restricted  to  industrial  communities.  In 
February,  1935,  the  Comptroller  General  challenged  the  legality  of 
nearly  all  the  expenditures,  made  approximately  one  year  earlier, 

86  Wendell  Lund  to  Pynchon,  May  13,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

96  Pynchon  to  All  Employees,  Oct.  27,  1934,  ibid. 

07  Nathan  R.  Margold  to  Ickes,  Nov.  24,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

98  Wesley  Stout,  "The  Government  Builds  Fifty  Houses,"  Saturday  Evening  Post, 
CCVIII  (April  4,  1936),  76;  Bruce  L.  Melvin,  "Emergency  and  Permanent  Legis- 
lation with  Special  Reference  to  the  History  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,"  Ameri- 
can Sociological  Review,  I  (1936),  627. 


Subsistence  Homesteads  Program  129 

of  the  local  corporations,  ruling  that  there  had  been  no  authoriza- 
tion for  the  formation  of  local  corporations,  no  authority  for  advanc- 
ing funds  to  them,  no  authority  for  land  purchased  under  Section 
208,  and  no  compliance  with  government  procedures  by  the  local 
corporations.  This  apparently  made  new  legislation  imperative.  On 
March  6,  1935,  Representative  Hampton  P.  Fulmer  of  South  Carolina 
introduced  in  the  House  a  more  detailed  subsistence  homesteads  bill, 
which  died  in  committee."  Then  on  May  7,  1935,  McCarl  ruled  that 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  not  having  been  extended 
by  new  legislation  and  as  a  temporary  part  of  the  National  Industrial 
Recovery  Act,  would  automatically  go  out  of  existence  on  June  16, 
1935,  with  all  unexpended  funds  reverting  to  the  Treasury.  This 
meant  so  many  uncompleted  communities  and  unfulfilled  obligations 
that  some  new  authorization  was  imperative.  Actually  President 
Roosevelt  was  already  formulating  plans  for  a  consolidation  of  sev- 
eral agencies  into  a  new  Resettlement  Administration.  Bruce  Melvin, 
one  of  M.  L.  Wilson's  earliest  assistants,  declared  that  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  idea,  because  of  a  poorly  written  law  and  constant 
involvements  with  legal  technicalities,  did  not  fail  but  "was  never 
tried."  10° 

On  May  15,  1935,  fully  two  months  before  the  expiration  date  set 
by  McCarl,  Roosevelt,  by  Executive  Order  7041,  transferred  all  the 
property  and  assets  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  to  the 
newly  created  Resettlement  Administration.101  In  order  to  complete 
the  transfer,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  remained  in 
existence  until  June  16,  1935,  as  a  division  of  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration. At  the  time  of  absorption,  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  had  completed  691  houses  and  had  begun  construction 
on  1,369  homes.102  Many  projects  had  developed  no  farther  than  the 
original  land  purchase.  Since  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads, 
constantly  plagued  by  legal  and  administrative  delays,  had  expended 

99  C.  E.  Pynchon  to  Ickes,  Feb.  22,   1935,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives;  C.R., 
74th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1935,  p.  3066. 

100  McCarl  to  Ickes,  May  7,  1935,  and  Pynchon  to  Ickes,  May  7,  1935,  R.G.  48, 
National  Archives;  Melvin,  "Emergency  and  Permanent  Legislation,"  p.  631. 

101  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  pp.  966-968. 

102  Memorandum  from  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  to  Tugwell,  May 
24,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


130  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

less  than  $8,000,000  of  its  $25,000,000  appropriation,  its  surplus 
funds  were  transferred  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  for  the 
brief  two  months  before  they  were  to  revert  to  the  Treasury.  The 
executive  order  expressly  required  the  Resettlement  Administration  to 
carry  out  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  in  accordance  with  the 
original  legislation.103  This  did  not  prevent  an  inevitable  change  in 
policies,  which  again  affected  the  local  communities. 

The  popular  back-to-the-land  and  subsistence  homesteads  pro- 
gram had  been  born  in  the  depths  of  the  depression  and,  despite  the 
views  of  its  administrators  in  the  New  Deal,  had  been  motivated 
largely  by  the  hopelessness  and  despair  of  the  depression.  It  repre- 
sented a  longing  and  a  hope  for  that  security  that  surely  could  be 
found  at  the  source  of  life  itself.  Rut  by  1935  the  sense  of  despair  and 
of  urgency  was  disappearing.  The  powerful  emotional  appeal  of  an 
envisioned  homestead,  of  gardens  and  handicrafts,  was  beginning  to 
fade.  The  administration  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  had 
been  carried  out  in  the  happy  honeymoon  period  of  the  New  Deal, 
when  desperation  and  a  sense  of  impending  catastrophe  apparently 
unified  almost  all  groups  and  all  classes  in  a  truly  national  effort 
toward  recovery.  Although  the  enemy  was  not  so  clearly  defined,  or 
even  well  known,  the  period  had  many  of  the  earmarks  of  a  great 
wartime  effort.  Rut  by  1935  the  honeymoon  was  almost  over.  The 
enemies  who  began  to  emerge  in  the  eyes  or  the  imagination  of  men 
were  not  such  as  could  demand  the  hostility  of  all  Americans,  for 
these  enemies  were  not  natural,  or  providential,  or  foreign,  but  hu- 
man and  native.  A  class  and  group  consciousness  was  forming.  The 
New  Deal,  which  was  becoming  the  champion  of  some  individuals 
and  groups,  was  believed  by  others  to  be  an  enemy.  Reneath  all  the 
bitterness  that  followed  this,  the  nearest  approximation  of  a  class 
struggle  in  American  history,  there  was  a  sharp  clash  of  ideas,  ideals, 
values,  and  gods,  which  once  again,  in  the  easily  accepted  presence 
of  manna,  became  seemingly  more  important  than  manna.  The  sub- 
sistence homesteads,  in  a  new  administrative  agency,  were  to  be 
shaped  by  a  new  bitterness  and  an  increased  clash  of  values. 

103  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  968. 


VI 


The  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Administration  Communities 


AS  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  developed,  it  became  lim- 
ited to  one  type  of  community  and  to  the  benefit  of  one  economic 
group.  Although  the  stranded  communities,  which  were  intended  to 
aid  destitute  miners,  were  part  of  the  original  program,  they  were 
quickly  curtailed  after  the  first  four  met  legal  and  economic  difficul- 
ties. The  three  colonies  for  submarginal  farmers  were  declared  il- 
legal by  the  Solicitor  of  the  Department  of  the  Interior.  The  one 
type  continued,  the  industrial  communities,  benefited  only  those  peo- 
ple with  an  income  near  or  over  $1,200  and  with  the  highest  of 
character  qualifications.  A  significant  experimental  program  in  land- 
use  planning,  in  the  decentralization  of  low-income  populations,  and 
in  low-income  housing,  the  subsistence  homesteads  program,  as  it 
developed,  did  not  relieve,  or  profess  to  relieve,  the  immediate  prob- 
lems of  the  mass  of  unemployed  and  stranded  people,  both  rural  and 
urban.  With  all  the  talk  of  subsistence  homesteads  and  of  back-to-the- 
land,  it  was  only  natural  that  relief  agencies  would  attempt  to  adapt 
the  idea  of  rural-urban  communities  to  relief  problems.  Thus,  the 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  became  the  second  New 
Deal  agency  to  initiate  and  develop  communities. 

First  created  by  the  Emergency  Relief  Act  of  May  12,  1933,  the 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  provided  relief  funds  to 
the  states,  which  distributed  them  through  state  relief  organizations. 

131 


132  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

The  organizer  and  director  of  state  relief  in  Texas  was  Colonel 
Lawrence  Westbrook,  an  engineer,  agriculturalist,  and  politician. 
As  a  member  of  the  state  legislature  from  1928  to  1932,  he  had  been 
chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  had  helped  organize 
the  Texas  Cotton  Co-operative  Association.  As  Texas  relief  ad- 
ministrator he  desired  to  use  relief  funds  for  permanent  rehabilitation 
rather  than  for  outright  grants.  Supporting  him  in  this  desire  was  a 
handsome,  colorful  Dallas  architect,  David  Williams,  who  had  al- 
ready contemplated  rural-industrial  communities  for  the  unemployed 
of  Dallas.  Plans  for  a  test  community  were  developed  in  the  fall  of 
1933.  In  January,  1934,  a  group  of  former  farmers,  who  were  then 
on  city  relief  rolls,  moved  into  a  section  of  pine  woods  about  100 
miles  north  of  Houston  and  began  constructing  the  Woodlake  com- 
munity, which  was  designed  for  100  relief  families.1  This  project  was 
to  be  a  model  for  most  of  the  later  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Ad- 
ministration communities. 

Woodlake  was  quickly  constructed,  with  the  families  of  the  men 
moving  into  their  new  homes  during  the  summer  of  1934.  The  100 
homes  of  three,  four,  or  five  rooms  were  placed  on  three-acre  sub- 
sistence plots,  each  of  which  also  included  a  combination  barn-garage- 
laundry,  an  orchard,  a  vineyard,  and  a  chicken  house.  The  homes, 
of  frame  or  log  construction,  were  designed  by  David  Williams,  cost 
about  $1,500  each,  and  included  modern  baths.  They  were  leased  to 
destitute  relief  clients  for  three  years  at  $180  rent  a  year,  all  payable 
in  farm  and  poultry  surpluses.  The  whole  community  jointly  owned 
a  225-acre  park,  a  school,  a  community  house,  a  bathhouse,  a  trading 
post,  and  two  co-operative  farms  of  600  acres  each.  Each  family,  in 
addition  to  farming  the  three-acre  subsistence  plot,  was  expected 
to  participate  in  handicrafts  and  processing  industries.  This  project, 
administered  by  a  separate  legal  entity,  the  Texas  Rural  Communities, 
Incorporated,  possessed  some  characteristics  of  a  European  village, 
with  its  outlying  fields,  or  of  a  Russian  co-operative  farm,  with  its 
individual  subsistence  plots  and  its  collectively  operated  fields.2 

1  "Rural  Industrial  Community  Projects:   Woodlake,  Texas,  Osceola,  Arkansas, 
and  Red  House,  West  Virginia,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXVII  (1935),  12. 

2  Ibid.;   Resettlement  Administration,  Division  of  Land  Utilization,  Land   Use 
Planning  Section,  "Resettlement  Policy  and  Procedure:   Suggestions,"  manuscript 
in  R.G.  96,  National  Archives,  pp.  35-36;  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Com- 
mittee   on    Agriculture,    Hearings    on    the    Farm    Security    Administration,    78th 
Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  p.  1107. 


Relief  Communities  133 

Meanwhile,  in  February,  1934,  Harry  Hopkins,  Administrator  of 
the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  created,  by  an  informal 
administrative  order,  the  Division  of  Rural  Rehabilitation  and 
Stranded  Populations  within  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Adminis- 
tration and,  for  assistance  in  the  formulation  of  a  rural  rehabilitation 
program,  asked  Lawrence  Westbrook  and  David  Williams  to  come 
to  Washington.  In  March,  Westbrook  called  a  series  of  regional  con- 
ferences of  agricultural  and  civic  leaders  to  discuss  the  problems 
of  returning  stranded  agricultural  workers  to  farms  and  of  making 
special  loans  to  those  farmers  who  needed  to  replace  work  stock 
and  equipment  in  order  to  become  self-sustaining.  Both  Hopkins  and 
Westbrook  believed  that  most  farmers  who  were  then  on  relief  could 
be  rehabilitated  and  made  self-sustaining  for  less  money  than  was 
likely  to  be  involved  in  continued  relief  grants.  On  March  22,  1934, 
Hopkins  announced  that  all  direct  relief  and  Civil  Works  Administra- 
tion programs  carried  on  in  rural  areas  would  be  replaced,  as  of 
April  1,  1934,  by  a  rural  rehabilitation  program.3  Since  it  was  doubt- 
ful that  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  had  any  legal 
authority  to  purchase  other  than  submarginal  agricultural  land  or  to 
build  houses  (two  projects  contemplated  by  Westbrook),  a  member 
of  the  legal  staff  worked  out  a  plan  for  state  rural  rehabilitation  cor- 
porations to  handle  the  financial  operations  of  rehabilitation  loans  and 
of  community  development,  both  under  the  direction  and  control  of 
the  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Administration.4 

Even  as  the  rural  rehabilitation  program  was  being  developed 
within  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  another  com- 
plementary program  was  initiated  partly  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration.  Land-use  planning,  as  de- 
veloped by  the  agricultural  economists,  as  stressed  by  planning 
agencies,  and  as  developed  in  New  York  State  by  Franklin  D.  Roose- 

3  Lawrence  Westbrook,  "The  Program  of  the  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  of 
the  FERA,"  Journal  of  Farm  Economics,  XVII  (1935),  89-91;  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  862-863. 

*  Philip  M.  Click,  "Memorandum  on  Federal  Governmental  Agencies  Involved 
in  Land  Acquisition,  Administration,  and  Planning,"  in  Record  Group  69,  Records 
of  the  Work  Projects  Administration  and  Its  Predecessors  (includes  the  Works 
Progress  Administration,  the  Civil  Works  Administration,  and  the  Federal  Emer- 
gency Relief  Administration),  National  Archives  (to  be  cited  hereafter  as  R.G. 
69,  National  Archives). 


134  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

velt,  always  included  a  retirement  program  for  submarginal  land. 
In  the  New  Deal  a  land-purchase  and  land-retirement  program  was 
first  initiated  by  the  Federal  Surplus  Relief  Corporation  in  early 
1934,  but  was  restricted  to  the  purpose  of  reducing  agricultural  sur- 
pluses. In  the  spring  of  1934  this  land-purchase  program  was  shifted 
to  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  where  it  included 
other  than  surplus-producing  agricultural  lands.  In  July,  1934,  it  was 
further  broadened  to  include  not  only  the  purchase  of  such  land  but 
its  conversion  to  some  new  use.  The  funds  for  the  program  were 
allotted  to  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  but  the 
technical  direction  was  placed  in  other  agencies.  The  Land  Policy 
Section  of  the  Division  of  Program  Planning,  Agricultural  Adjustment 
Administration,  directed  about  three-fourths  of  the  program.  The 
rest  was  under  the  National  Park  Service,  the  Bureau  of  Biological 
Survey,  and  the  Office  of  Indian  Affairs.  One  final  problem,  that  of 
resettling  the  dislocated  farmers,  was  placed,  quite  appropriately,  in 
the  newly  formed  Division  of  Rural  Rehabilitation,  under  Lawrence 
Westbrook.  Although  very  few  people  were  resettled  before  the  land 
program  was  switched  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  in  1935,  the 
existence  of  the  program  was  further  justification  for  the  Division  of 
Rural  Rehabilitation  and  for  a  program  of  rural  community  building.5 
The  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Re- 
lief Administration  was  largely  staffed  with  agricultural  personnel. 
It  maintained  close  contact  with  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  the 
Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration,  and  the  Farm  Credit  Ad- 
ministration. Its  operations  were  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  rural 
rehabilitation  corporations,  which  existed  in  twenty-one  states  by 
November,  1934,  and  in  forty-five  states  by  June,  1935.  All  stock  of 
the  local  corporation  was  deposited  with  the  Federal  Relief  Ad- 
ministrator, thus  insuring  federal  control.  On  the  Board  of  Directors 
of  each  state  corporation  was  a  regional  representative  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration,  the  state  administrator  of  relief, 
the  director  of  the  State  Extension  Service,  a  representative  of  the 
Land  Policy  Section  of  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration, 

5  Lewis  C.  Gray,  "The  Social  and  Economic  Implications  of  the  National  Land 
Program,"  Journal  of  Farm  Economics,  XVIII  (1936),  261-263;  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, Interim  Report  (Washington,  1936),  p.  6;  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt, 
The  Public  Papers  and  Addresses  of  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  IV  (New  York,  1938), 
145-147. 


Relief  Communities  135 

and  three  outstanding  citizens.6  The  similarities  between  this  organi- 
zation and  the  original  one  set  up  by  M.  L.  Wilson  in  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  are  very  obvious.  The  significant  differ- 
ence is  that  the  rural  rehabilitation  corporations  did  not  face  almost 
insurmountable  legal  obstacles  under  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Act,  which  specified  a  form  of  decentralized  administration. 

Although  each  state  corporation  was  supposed  to  formulate  its  own 
rehabilitation  program,  both  Lawrence  Westbrook  and  David  Wil- 
liams, in  light  of  their  work  at  Woodlake,  influenced  the  corporations 
to  use  part  of  their  funds  in  the  construction  of  rural-industrial 
communities.  Westbrook  believed  that  the  gravest  relief  problems 
involved  the  stranded  workers,  rural  or  urban,  who  had  no  prospect 
for  employment  at  their  present  locations.  Relief  grants  should  not 
have  to  continue  indefinitely.  Why  could  not  these  workers  be  re- 
habilitated and  resettled  in  organized  rural  communities,  which  they 
themselves  could  build  and  then  purchase,  repaying  the  government 
for  its  investment?  Although  these  communities  would  be  somewhat 
experimental,  there  were  already  several  examples  of  farm  villages 
in  the  United  States.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  would  be  more 
aesthetic  in  design  and  better  located  and  would  depend  more  on 
community  enterprises,  these  new  rural-industrial  communities  would 
not  be  materially  different  from  older  farm  villages.  They  would  not 
be  "crack-pot  economic  or  social  panaceas" 7  and  would  provide 
guidance  to  the  back-to-the-land  movement.  Westbrook  hoped  to  see 
developed  from  100  to  150  of  these  communities,  with  up  to  1,000 
families  in  each  community.8 

The  program  of  the  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration  differed  considerably  from  that  of 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  First,  and  most  important, 
the  rural-industrial  communities  were  only  a  small  part  of  the  total 
program  of  the  state  corporations,  although  a  part  much  beloved 
by  Westbrook.  In  many  states  no  communities  were  even  planned. 
Most  of  the  relief  funds  of  the  corporations  were  lent  to  individual 
farmers  (a  total  of  about  $50,000,000  to  398,000  farmers  by  June, 

6  Westbrook,  "The  Program  of  the  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division,"  pp.  92-93. 

7  Ibid.,  pp.  95-100. 

8  Lawrence  Westbrook,  "Rural-Industrial  Communities  for  Stranded  Families," 
R.G.  69,  National  Archives,  pp.  4-9. 


136  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

1935  9 ) ,  enabling  them  to  purchase  livestock,  equipment,  or  even  sub- 
sistence. A  second  difference  was  that  all  rural  rehabilitation  com- 
munities were  planned  for  relief  clients.  As  such  they  resemble  only 
the  four  stranded  communities  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads. The  rural-industrial  communities  were  usually  constructed 
with  much  greater  speed  and  economy  than  the  subsistence  home- 
steads, perhaps  because  of  the  corporate  device  which  allowed  local 
control  and  little  red  tape.  As  conceived  by  Westbrook  and  Williams, 
the  rural-industrial  communities  were  to  have  a  dual  economic  base 
— there  were  to  be  co-operative  farms  and  co-operative  village  indus- 
tries, related  either  to  crafts  or  to  the  processing  of  specialized  farm 
products.  This  contrasts  with  the  industrial  decentralization  desired 
by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The  dependence  upon 
processing  industries  or  upon  highly  specialized  types  of  agriculture 
led  to  small  farm  plots  or  to  very  small  co-operative  farms  in  rela- 
tion to  the  number  of  homesteaders.  When  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration absorbed  the  communities,  the  farm  units  were  usually 
consolidated  to  create  an  adequate  agricultural  base,  and  the  rural 
industries  were  often  dropped.  Thus,  the  Resettlement  Administration 
could  attribute  all  later  economic  difficulties  in  these  communities  to 
poor  early  planning.  On  the  other  hand,  the  community  architects 
of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  like  David  Wil- 
liams, were  just  as  certain  that  the  communities  failed  because  their 
original  plans  had  been  betrayed  by  unsympathetic  agriculturalists 
in  the  Resettlement  Administration. 

One  of  the  first  rural-industrial  communities,  and  the  only  one 
of  its  type,  was  a  community  at  Red  House,  West  Virginia,  for 
stranded  coal  miners.  Red  House  was  very  similar  to  the  subsistence 
homesteads  communities  of  Arthurdale  and  Tygart  Valley.  It  too  was 
planned  in  the  expectation  of  industrial  decentralization — a  hope 
as  vain  at  Red  House  as  at  Arthurdale.  On  600  developed  acres  of  a 
2,013-acre  tract,  150  cinder-block  homes  were  constructed  on  plots 
of  from  three-fourths  of  an  acre  to  one  acre,  beginning  in  September, 
1934.  The  cinder  blocks  were  made  at  a  cost  of  ten  cents  each  in  a 
temporary  plant;  the  lumber  was  fabricated  in  a  local  shop.  As  in 
almost  all  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  communities, 
most  of  the  work  was  done  by  the  prospective  settlers.  The  sturdy 

9  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  864. 


Relief  Communities  137 

homes  included  three  to  five  rooms,  cellars,  baths,  porches,  and  large 
attics.  Each  homestead  had  a  barn  and  a  chicken  pen.  Unique  among 
all  New  Deal  communities,  Red  House  had  a  gas  well  which  supplied 
the  fuel  for  the  homes.  As  was  true  of  almost  all  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration  communities,  Red  House  had  a  general,  co- 
operative farm.10 

Three  of  the  most  publicized  and,  in  the  end,  the  most  unsuccessful 
of  the  rural-industrial  communities  occupy  an  administrative  history 
separate  from  all  the  other  New  Deal  communities.  Those  three — the 
Dyess  Colony,  near  Wilson,  Arkansas;  Pine  Mountain  Valley,  about 
thirty  miles  from  Columbus,  Georgia;  and  Cherry  Lake  Farms,  near 
Madison,  Florida — were  not  turned  over  to  the  Resettlement  Admin- 
istration in  1935.  Except  for  the  Resettlement  Administration's  super- 
vision of  certain  aspects  of  community  management,  such  as  settler 
selection,  education,  and  special  services,  those  communities  became 
a  part  of  the  Works  Progress  Administration,  therefore  remaining  in 
the  hands  of  Hopkins  and  Westbrook.  Not  until  1939,  long  after  all 
construction  had  been  completed,  were  they  turned  over  to  the  Farm 
Security  Administration,  the  successor  to  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion. Matanuska,  Alaska,  perhaps  the  most  fascinating  relief  colony, 
was  never  turned  over  to  the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  will 
not  be  included  in  this  study.11 

The  Dyess  community,  the  largest  farm  colony  ever  developed  by 
a  public  agency  in  the  United  States,  was  initiated  in  1934  by  the 
Arkansas  Rural  Rehabilitation  Corporation.  In  the  delta  country,  sixty 
miles  from  Memphis,  Dyess  contained  17,500  acres  of  rich  but  gummy 
cotton  land  which,  according  to  original  plans,  was  to  be  subdivided 
into  750  small,  one-mule  farms  of  approximately  twenty  acres  each. 
Construction  of  roads  and  buildings  began  in  1934  and  continued  at  a 
rapid  pace,  with  1,500  relief  laborers  at  work  at  one  time.  By  October, 
1934,  eighty-three  houses  were  ready  for  occupancy.  By  June,  1936, 
approximately  500  homes  were  completed.  No  more  were  started,  for, 
by  then,  it  had  been  decided  that  the  farm  units  were  too  small  and 

10  William  N.  Beehler,  Relief  Work  and  Rehabilitation:  A  Report  of  the  West 
Virginia  Relief  Administration   (Charleston,  1934),  pp.  69-70;   "Rural  Industrial 
Community  Projects:  Woodlake,  Texas,  Osceola,  Arkansas,  and  Red  House,  West 
Virginia,"  pp.    14-15;   Rural  Rehabilitation,   I    (Nov.    15,   1934),  mimeographed, 
R.G.  69,  National  Archives. 

11  Carl  C.  Taylor  to  Fred  Bartlett,  July  6,  1933,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


138  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

should  be  consolidated.  The  homes  were  three-  to  five-room  cottages 
of  rather  poor  quality.  The  lumber  was  cut  and  sawed  on  the  project, 
leading  to  a  low  unit  cost.  The  houses  were,  for  the  most  part,  located 
on  the  individual  farms,  with  four  houses  grouped  at  the  angles  of 
each  crossroads  in  order  to  promote  neighborliness.  A  central  com- 
munity center,  fully  five  miles  from  some  of  the  outlying  farms, 
comprised  100  acres  of  land,  thirty-two  subsistence  homes,  a  large  ad- 
ministration building,  several  warehouses,  a  large  mule  barn,  a 
theater  building,  a  twenty-two-bed  hospital,  a  twelve-year  school  for 
about  1,600  pupils,  a  seed  house,  a  cotton  gin,  and  a  store.  Subsidiary 
community  centers  developed  around  eight  scattered  Sunday  schools 
and  nine  home  demonstration  clubs.12 

After  the  completion  of  construction  in  1936,  the  Dyess  Colony,  a 
$2,000,000  all-white,  all-Protestant  project,  was  operated  by  a  local 
corporation  under  Works  Progress  Administration  direction  until  it 
was  turned  over  to  the  Farm  Security  Administration  in  1939.  Dur- 
ing this  time  the  colony  was  a  financial  failure.  The  twenty-acre  units 
were  much  too  small,  leading  to  a  consolidation  of  units  and  a  re- 
duction to  approximately  300  homesteads.  The  local  corporation,  which 
operated  several  co-operatives,  lost  over  $750,000  from  1937  to  1939. 
It  operated  a  store,  cafe,  warehouse,  craft  shop,  hospital,  garage, 
cotton  gin,  blacksmith  shop,  printing  press,  shoeshop,  and  harness 
shop.  This  sorry  financial  record  and  a  series  of  quarrels  on  the 
project  led  to  a  threatened  investigation  by  the  State  of  Arkansas  in 
1939.  Dyess  was  hardly  a  welcome  addition  to  the  communities  of  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  in  1939. 13 

One  of  the  most  idealistically  planned  colonies  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration  was  Pine  Mountain  Valley,  near 
Pine  Mountain,  Harris  County,  Georgia.  Planned  and  designed  by 
David  Williams  and  adjoining  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt's  Warm  Springs, 

2  "Preliminary  Report  on  Community  Development  at  Dyess  Colony,  Arkansas," 
a  study  directed  by  Dr.  Charles  P.  Loomis,  submitted  on  Aug.  1,  1936,  R.G.  96, 
National  Archives;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1667-1669; 
"Rural  Industrial  Community  Projects:  Woodlake,  Texas,  Osceola,  Arkansas,  and 
Red  House,  West  Virginia,"  p.  13;  a  notation  dated  Dec.  11,  1936,  R.G.  16, 
National  Archives;  Lawrence  Westbrook  to  David  Lilienthal,  Sept.  4,  1934,  R.G. 
69,  National  Archives. 

"Audit  Report  on  Dyess  Colony,  March  22,  1939,  R.G.  69,  National  Archives; 
Floyd  Sharp  to  Lawrence  Westbrook,  Feb.  25,  1939,  ibid. 


Relief  Communities  13d 

it  was  probably  the  most  publicized  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Re- 
lief Administration  communities.  Pine  Mountain  Valley,  which  was 
officially  developed  by  the  Georgia  Rural  Rehabilitation  Corporation, 
was  advertised  as  being  "based  on  a  new  idea  in  planning  in  which 
the  farm  and  the  city  are  so  amalgamated  as  to  be  one  inseparable 
whole."  14  It  was  planned  for  some  500  former  farm  families  on  relief 
in  Atlanta  and  other  Georgia  cities.  At  Pine  Mountain  Valley  they 
were  to  thrive  on  specialized  agriculture,  such  as  the  cultivation  of 
scuppernong  grapes,  on  small  agricultural  industries,  such  as  can- 
neries and  hatcheries,  and  on  manual  arts  and  household  crafts.  It 
was  to  be  an  educational  and  demonstrational  colony,  having  all  the 
advantages  of  the  city,  with  five  community  centers  and  a  central 
water,  telephone,  and  electrical  system.15  For  the  construction  of  this 
dream  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  allotted  $2,207,- 
572.  For  demonstration  purposes  12,651  acres  of  broken  and  exhausted, 
but  basically  fertile,  land  was  purchased  in  a  formerly  prosperous 
valley  of  north  central  Georgia.  The  land  was  divided  into  300  instead 
of  the  contemplated  500  homestead  units.  The  community  contained 
homes,  outbuildings,  a  water  system,  a  school  center,  seven  barracks 
buildings,  a  store  and  warehouse,  an  electric  power  system,  several 
storage  barns,  an  office  and  administration  building,  an  auditorium, 
a  large  canning  plant,  a  dairy,  an  egg  freezing  plant,  a  hatchery,  a 
sawmill,  a  vineyard,  a  telephone  system,  and  a  church.16  No  more 
complete  community  could  be  imagined.  Pine  Mountain  Valley  was 
a  favorite  project  of  Franklin  Roosevelt,  who  honored  the  community 
with  a  speech  on  December  2,  1935.17 

Pine  Mountain  had  as  unfortunate  an  existence  as  did  Dyess.  Like 
Dyess,  it  was  operated  by  a  locally  organized  community  corpora- 
tion under  Works  Progress  Administration  direction  from  1936  to 
1939.  Dissension  resulted  in  the  eviction  of  twenty-eight  families  in 
1936,18  and  economic  problems  were  never  solved.  A  large  number 
of  the  units  at  Pine  Mountain  Valley  were  only  subsistence  homesteads 
of  one  to  five  acres,  since  several  village  industries  had  been  planned. 

14  "Pine  Mountain  Valley,  a  Rural  Industrial  Community,"  n.d.,  ibid. 
"Ibid. 

16  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1693-1694. 

17  St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch,  Dec.  3,  1935. 

18  Atlanta  Georgian,  Aug.  21,  1936. 


140  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Few  of  the  farm  units,  ranging  from  ten  to  forty  acres,  were  large 
enough  to  assure  economic  independence  apart  from  the  processing 
industries.  Thus,  as  at  Dyess,  several  consolidations  were  made,  reduc- 
ing the  number  of  units  to  205  and  leaving  several  surplus  houses.  The 
local  corporation  financed  many  of  the  farmers,  losing  a  good  propor- 
tion of  the  loans.  The  largest  enterprise,  the  cannery,  proved  mod- 
erately successful,  but  depreciated  in  value.  By  1943  the  estimated 
value  of  Pine  Mountain  Valley  was  only  approximately  $1,000,000.19 

Cherry  Lake  Farms  in  northern  Florida  was  very  similar  to  Pine 
Mountain  Valley.  With  nearly  $2,000,000  in  relief  funds,  the  Florida 
Rural  Rehabilitation  Corporation  acquired  12,420  acres  of  sandy, 
nonproductive  soil  on  which  it  planned  to  establish  500  small,  ten- 
acre,  specialized  farms.  Poultry  and  eggs,  gourds,  scuppernong  grapes, 
and  exotic  show  birds  for  zoos  were  considered  possible  sources  of 
income.  The  project  was  planned  for  relief  clients  in  Tampa,  Miami, 
and  Jacksonville.  About  one-half  of  the  132  completed  units  (as  of 
1943)  were  subsistence  homesteads  with  four-  or  five-room  cottages 
containing  modern  conveniences.  A  central  water  system  was  estab- 
lished for  the  subsistence  units,  which  were  close  enough  together 
to  have  common  facilities.  A  huge  administrative  building  dominated 
the  community  center.  A  co-operative  association,  with  compulsory 
membership,  operated  a  poultry  farm,  a  store,  and  a  gristmill.  A 
separate  handicraft  co-operative  completed  the  local  industries.  With 
poor  land  and  few  industries,  Cherry  Lake  had  little  rehabilitation 
possibilities,  although  it  was  well  placed  for  a  winter  resort.  When  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  took  over  in  1939  the  local  corporation 
was  practically  bankrupt.20 

Approximately  twenty-two  other  communities,  of  less  size  or  less 
importance,  were  initiated  by  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Ad- 
ministration. In  some  cases  the  planning  had  only  begun  in  1935, 
leaving  all  the  development  and  much  of  the  determination  of  policy 
to  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Resides  these  community  projects, 
the  local  corporations  also  developed  several  resettlement  projects 
which  involved  widely  scattered  individual  farms  rather  than  rural 
communities.  In  California  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administra- 
tion established  migratory  camps  for  farm  laborers,  which  was  an- 

19  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1694-1700. 

20  M.  D.  Burrows  to  Leroy  Peterson,  Oct.  29,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1663-1664. 


Relief  Communities  141 

other  responsibility  turned  over  to  the  Resettlement  Administration 
in  1935. 

The  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  initiated  ten  all-rural 
farming  colonies  in  the  South,  nine  very  small  (as  low  as  ten  units 
each)  farm  communities  in  Nebraska  and  South  Dakota,  two  small 
industrial-type  communities  in  Minnesota  and  North  Dakota,  a  farm 
colony  in  New  Mexico  for  farmers  displaced  from  submarginal  lands, 
and  a  subsistence  homestead  community  near  Phoenix,  Arizona  (see 
the  Appendix  for  a  complete  list  of  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Ad- 
ministration communities).  Almost  all  of  these  communities  were 
actually  constructed  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  largest 
communities  were  initiated  by  the  North  Carolina  Rehabilitation  Cor- 
poration, which  refused  to  surrender  its  assets  to  the  Resettlement 
Administration  in  1935.  One  project,  Roanoke  Farms,  contained  294 
units  separated  into  two  communities,  one  for  the  white  people  and 
one  for  the  Negroes.  In  addition  to  these  communities,  the  Wisconsin 
Rural  Rehabilitation  Corporation  planned  several  homesteads  for  the 
aged,  handicapped,  and  retired,  but  completed  only  nine  homes  on 
eight  scattered  plots  of  ground.21 

The  planning  of  rural-industrial  communities  was  carried  out  by 
the  state  corporations,  but  always  with  the  approval  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration.  As  in  most  of  the  subsistence  home- 
steads communities,  the  site  surveys  were  made  by  the  state  agricul- 
tural colleges  and  the  land  appraisals  were  made  by  the  Federal 
Land  Bank.  The  construction  was  usually  carried  out  by  the  prospec- 
tive colonists;  in  all  cases  it  was  done  by  relief  labor.  The  houses,  in 
those  instances  where  the  construction  was  completed  by  state  cor- 
porations, were  often  smaller  and  less  expensive  than  those  constructed 
by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  Several  projects  included 
some  three-room  homes.  The  selection  of  settlers  was  assigned  to 
the  social  service  divisions  of  the  state  relief  agencies,  with  varying 
standards  for  different  states  and  different  projects.  The  settler  was 
almost  always  from  the  relief  rolls  and  had  to  express  a  desire  for 
rural  life.22  Since  only  two  projects,  Woodlake  and  Red  House,  were 

^Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1037-1116. 

22  John  B.  Holt,  An  Analysis  of  Methods  and  Criteria  Used  in  Selecting  Families 
for  Colonization  Projects  (Social  Research  Report  no.  1,  U.S.  Department  of 
Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Eco- 
nomics; Washington,  1937),  pp.  39-44. 


142  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

completed  by  June,  1935,  most  of  the  settlers  were  actually  selected 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  communities  were,  first  of  all, 
planned  to  serve  a  rehabilitation  function,  but,  if  rehabilitation  oc- 
curred, they  were  to  be  sold  to  the  settlers.  Westbrook  suggested  a 
trial  lease  of  one  year  and  then  sale  at  3  per  cent  interest  and  twenty- 
year  terms.  The  state  corporations  were  to  provide  for  the  social, 
economic,  recreational,  and  educational  needs  of  the  communities.23 

By  early  1935  a  reorganization  of  the  agencies  administering  the 
relief  and  land  programs  of  the  New  Deal  was  being  considered  by 
Roosevelt  and  many  of  his  advisers.  As  the  unprecedented  Emergency 
Relief  Act  of  1935,  which  provided  an  appropriation  of  $4,880,000,000, 
wended  its  way  through  Congress,  the  great  concern  of  Ickes,  Hop- 
kins, and  even  Tugwell  was  how  the  President  would  use  the  funds 
and  through  what  agencies.  Some  reorganization  was  almost  certain 
because  of  the  confused  and  overlapping  administrative  organization 
of  the  land  program.  The  purchase  of  submarginal  land  was  carried 
out  by  Federal  Emergency  Relief  funds,  but  was  administered  by 
personnel  from  four  other  agencies.  In  addition,  research  for  the 
program  was  directed  by  another  agency,  the  National  Resources 
Board.  Good  farm  lands  were  being  purchased  by  both  the  Rural 
Rehabilitation  Division  and  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
All  this  led  to  endless  confusion.24 

Since  both  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  and  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  were  constructing  communities 
and  since  the  subsistence  homesteads,  particularly  Arthurdale,  were 
a  constant  embarrassment  to  Ickes,  Roosevelt  had  considered  turning 
the  subsistence  homesteads  program  over  to  Hopkins  as  early  as 
November,  1934.  Ickes  had  tried  to  make  a  deal  with  the  Department 
of  Agriculture,  by  which  he  would  turn  over  to  Wallace  his  reclama- 
tion, erosion  control,  and  subsistence  homesteads  programs  for  the 
Department  of  Agriculture's  Bureaus  of  Roads,  Forestry,  and  Biological 
Survey.  By  this  swap  Ickes  hoped  to  be  rid  of  subsistence  homesteads 
and  to  have  all  the  conservation  activities.  He  then  hoped  to  lure 
Tugwell  from  the  Department  of  Agriculture  and  create  for  him  the 

23  Westbrook,  "Rural-Industrial  Communities,"  R.G.  69,  National  Archives,  pp. 
11,  19. 

24  Gray,  "The  Social  and  Economic  Implications  of  the  National  Land  Program," 
p.  263. 


Relief  Communities  143 

office  of  Undersecretary  of  the  Interior,  from  which  he  could  direct  a 
co-ordinated  conservation  program.  After  Wallace  declined  the  ex- 
change of  agencies  and  after  Hopkins  declined  to  accept  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads,  Roosevelt,  in  February,  1935,  considered  placing 
all  the  community  activities  in  a  new,  independent  agency.  When,  in 
March,  Ickes  talked  to  Roosevelt  about  combining  all  the  community 
building  in  one  agency  under  his  Assistant  Secretary,  Oscar  Chap- 
man, Roosevelt  surprised  him  by  announcing  that  Tugwell  wanted  to 
administer  the  subsistence  homesteads  program.25 

On  April  30,  1935,  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  by  an  executive  order  and 
under  the  very  broad  authority  granted  in  the  Emergency  Relief 
Act  of  1935,  established  the  Resettlement  Administration  under  Rex- 
ford  G.  Tugwell,  who  was  also  to  retain  his  position  as  Undersecretary 
of  Agriculture.  The  original  functions  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, as  detailed  in  the  executive  order,  included  the  "resettlement 
of  destitute  or  low-income  families  from  rural  and  urban  areas,  includ- 
ing the  establishment,  maintenance,  and  operation,  in  such  connection, 
of  communities  in  rural  and  suburban  areas."  26  It  also  provided  that 
the  Resettlement  Administration  continue  the  whole,  confused  sub- 
marginal  land  program,  although  with  an  emphasis  on  the  develop- 
mental aspect  of  the  acquired  land  (on  reforestation,  erosion  control, 
flood  control,  and  recreational  development),  since  the  relief  act  pro- 
vided for  work  relief  and  not  for  a  new  land  program.  As  later 
amended,  this  authority  for  land  development  included  "any  other 
useful  projects,"  giving  Tugwell  almost  unlimited  authority  in  select- 
ing projects.  A  third  function  given  the  Resettlement  Administration 
was  the  rural  rehabilitation  program.  The  executive  order  granted 
the  power  to  purchase  land,  to  use  eminent  domain,  to  improve  and 
develop  land,  and  to  sell  or  lease,  with  or  without  the  privilege  of 
purchasing,  any  land  so  held.27 

On  April  30  Roosevelt  transferred  the  land  program  of  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration  to  the  Resettlement  Administration. 
On  May  15  he  transferred  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
The  Land  Policy  Section  of  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administra- 

25  Harold  L.  Ickes,  The  Secret  Diary  of  Harold  L.  Ickes,  vol.  I:  The  First  Thou- 
sand Days,  1933-1936  (New  York,  1953),  pp.  227,  250,  288,  309-310. 

26  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  966. 

27  Ibid.,  pp.  966-967. 


144  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion  was  moved  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  on  June  1,  furnish- 
ing many  of  the  personnel  for  a  continued  submarginal  program.  On 
June  30  the  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  of  the  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration,  including  the  state  corporations  and  the  com- 
munities, was  given  to  Tugwell.  Although  Tugwell  wished  to  con- 
tinue the  state  corporations  as  an  administrative  device,  the  Comp- 
troller General  ruled  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  funds  could 
not  be  granted  to  local  corporations.  Under  an  agreement  worked  out 
between  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  most  of  the  state  cor- 
porations, thirty-seven  states  turned  their  funds  over  to  the  Resettlement 
Administration  in  1935,  with  a  provision  that  they  be  expended  within 
the  state  that  relinquished  them.  Eight  state  corporations  refused  to 
turn  over  their  funds  at  that  time,  but  later,  cut  off  from  all  sources  of 
federal  support,  the  corporations  either  had  to  sign  the  agreement  or 
become  virtually  defunct.28  For  a  while,  in  those  few  states,  a  duplica- 
tion of  effort  occurred,  with  both  the  Resettlement  Administration  and 
the  state  corporations  administering  a  rehabilitation  and  a  resettle- 
ment program. 

From  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  the  Resettlement 
Administration  inherited  plans  for  approximately  twenty-five  com- 
munities, only  two  of  which  were  totally  completed.  These  twenty-five 
communities,  when  completed,  were  to  contain  approximately  1,814 
family  units.  This  compared  with  thirty-four  subsistence  homesteads 
communities  containing,  when  completed,  3,304  family  units.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  three  largest,  if  most  unsuccessful, 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  communities  were  retained  by  the  Works 
Progress  Administration.  It  is  difficult  to  give  an  exact  number  of 
units  for  these  three,  since  each  of  them  went  through  periods  of  con- 
solidation, but  at  one  time  they  included  over  1,000  units.  These 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  communities  were  almost 
entirely  rural  farming  or  semifarming  communities,  with  the  most 
notable  problem  being  a  lack  of  ample  acreage  to  assure  economic 
success.  Since  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  had  initiated 
three  all-rural,  all-farming  communities,  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Administration  contributed  no  new  type  of  community.  Although  co- 

28  Henry  Wallace  to  Louis  Brownlow,  Feb.  3,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives; 
Memorandum  from  the  Farm  Security  Administration  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  Nov.  19, 
1937,  ibid. 


Relief  Communities  145 

operative  farms  had  been  planned  at  a  few  subsistence  homesteads 
communities,  such  as  Westmoreland  and  Hightstown,  the  Federal 
Emergency  Relief  Administration  was  most  notable  for  its  combination 
of  village  subsistence  plots  with  large  co-operative  farms. 

Despite  the  accomplishments  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads and  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  in  community 
building  over  a  two-year  period,  the  Resettlement  Administration  in- 
herited the  task  of  doing  more  than  half  of  the  construction  work  on 
these  communities,  of  selecting  a  majority  of  the  settlers,  of  doing 
almost  all  the  very  important  managerial  work  within  the  completed 
communities,  and  of  selling  or  otherwise  disposing  of  each  community. 
In  addition,  the  Resettlement  Administration  had  the  clearest  mandate 
yet  given  for  the  initiation  of  new  communities.  In  mid-1935  it  seemed 
as  if  the  community-building  program  of  the  New  Deal  had  only  begun. 


VII 


America  Resettled 


IN  the  first  year  and  a  half  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  the 
community-building  program  of  the  New  Deal  reached  its  climax.  A 
large  administrative  organization  was  developed,  policies  were  de- 
termined, and  an  ambitious  program  was  launched.  On  the  other  hand, 
planned  communities  became  more  controversial  and  more  unpopular 
than  ever  before.  By  the  beginning  of  1937  the  whole  program  was 
stabilized  and  ready  to  begin  a  long  period  of  completion  and  liquida- 
tion. In  the  minds  of  most  people  the  term  "Resettlement  Administra- 
tion" was  almost  synonymous  with  the  name  of  its  first  Administrator, 
Rexford  G.  Tugwell.  Already  one  of  the  most  controversial  major  figures 
in  the  New  Deal,  Tugwell  himself,  as  head  of  the  Resettlement  Adminis- 
tration, insured  that  its  program  would  also  be  an  object  of  much 
attack  and  abuse.  Although  no  more  to  blame  for  every  mistake  or  error 
made  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  than  he  was  responsible  for 
its  every  acknowledged  accomplishment,  Tugwell  did  do  far  more 
than  anyone  else  to  determine  the  policies  and  program  of  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration.  His  early  direction  gave  the  Resettlement  Admin- 
istration and  its  successor,  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  an  orienta- 
tion that  was  to  remain  virtually  unchanged  until  1943,  even  though 
Tugwell  left  it  in  December,  1936. 

As  a  sophomore  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  Tugwell  wrote  a 
poem  in  which  he  concluded: 

146 


America  Resettled  147 

I  am  sick  of  a  nation's  stenches 

I  am  sick  of  propertied  czars  .  . 

I  shall  roll  up  my  sleeves — make  America  over!  x 

He  later  may  have  regretted  the  writing  of  it,  for  it  was  one  of  many 
of  his  past  writings  that  were  used  during  the  New  Deal  to  show  what 
a  radical  he  was.  An  anti-Tug  well  Club  was  formed  in  Chicago.  News- 
papers warned  parents  not  to  let  children  get  hold  of  his  books.  By 
writing  authoritative  articles  on  wine  drinking  he  roused  the  ire  of 
many  American  churches.  At  one  and  the  same  time  he  was  labeled  a 
dangerous  Red  and  an  impractical,  utterly  ineffective  professor.  He 
could  not  be  both,  and  actually  was  neither.2  But  he  was  different 
from  the  past  run  of  Washington  bureaucrats.  To  many  he  seemed  to 
typify  the  young  liberals,  a  completely  new  crop  of  "eager-faced,  im- 
mature technicians  and  academicians  with  lean  bodies  and  no  bellies, 
running  around  hatless,  acting  rather  breathlessly  mysterious  and  im- 
portant." 3  Only  his  colleagues  knew  the  real  Tugwell,  for  the  news- 
papers painted  a  distorted  view,  a  view  which  his  friends  recognized 
as  "one  of  the  most  bewildering  examples  of  a  deliberately  rigged  and 
distorted  public  opinion  in  our  time."4 

Tugwell  was  a  social  scientist  with  the  temperament  of  an  extremely 
sensitive  artist.  Experience  spoke  to  him  in  such  loud  tones  that  its 
lessons  were  overamplified,  in  fact  were  often  overwhelming.  World 
War  I  left  him  ill.  The  depression  roused  in  him  anger  and  hate  and 
bitterness,  as  well  as  hope.  Later  the  atomic  bomb  overwhelmed  him 
with  despair.  Though  an  economist,  with  a  matured  economic  phi- 
losophy, Tugwell  was  the  eternal  reformer,  moved  to  action  and  even 
to  martyrdom  by  his  own  overwhelming  sensitivity  and  antipathy  to 
injustice,  to  inhumanity,  to  sin.  His  world  was  peopled  with  devils,  al- 
though his  economic  philosophy  and  his  scientific  training  persuaded 
him  to  give  them  a  very  modern  and  very  naturalistic  identity.  His 
attack  upon  them  was  not  timid;  neither  was  it  superficial  or  moralistic. 
In  another  age  it  might  have  been  moralistic,  but  his  modern  tools  were 
different  from  those  of  his  long-past  kindred.  Of  Thomas  Hardy,  his 
favorite  writer,  Tugwell  said:  "But  for  all  his  large  defeatist  principles, 

1  Russell  Lord,  The  Wallaces  of  Iowa  (Boston,  1947),  p.  349. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  347;  Russell  Lord,  "Governor  Rex,  a  Tough  Poet,"  Land,  II  ( 1942- 
1943),  102. 

8  Lord,  Wallaces  of  Iowa,  p.  352.  4  Ibid.,  p.  459. 


148  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

he  lived  as  though  he  were  important,  as  though  it  always  mattered 
what  he  did."5  At  another  time  he  said:  "There  is  something  wrong 
with  any  man  who  does  not  spend  parts  of  his  life  serving  far  and 
fundamental  causes.  That  is  the  best  contribution  he  can  afford  to  the 
immortality  of  his  culture."  6 

Tugwell's  world  was  peopled  with  heroes  as  well  as  with  devils.  A 
few  men  had  seen  through  the  superficiality  of  modern  society,  through 
the  thin  crust  of  orthodoxy  and  dogma  which  concealed  injustice  and 
exploitation.  One  of  these  men  had  been  a  kindred  spirit,  Thorstein 
Veblen;  another,  his  teacher,  Simon  Patten,  or  "My  Patten."  7  Another 
type  of  hero  was  his  "Boss,"  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  who  was  everything 
Tugwell  was  not.  Extroverted,  jovial,  optimistic,  supremely  confident, 
Roosevelt  moved  and  acted  with  sureness  and  with  a  sense  of  moving 
with  tradition  and  with  history.8  Tugwell,  the  introverted  intellectual, 
could  only  worship  or  envy  Roosevelt,  even  while  looking  deeply 
within  himself  and  at  the  world  and  finding  no  real  surety  and  no  real 
security.  When  he  carefully  weighed  tradition  he  found  it  badly  want- 
ing. The  American  political  and  economic  tradition  was  rooted  in  a 
far  past,  in  rural  values,  in  individualism  and  independence,  in  small, 
negative  governments,  in  free  enterprise,  and  in  the  political  philosophy 
of  Jefferson.  All  this  needed  to  be  replaced  by  collectivistic  ideas,  by 
urban  values,  by  ideas  suited  to  proletarian  aspirations  rather  than  to 
the  ideas  of  either  large  or  small  property  holders.9  More  than  that, 
some  of  the  puritanism  and  provincialism  of  Americans  had  to  be  re- 
placed by  a  degree  of  sophistication.  An  admirer  of  European  culture, 
Tugwell,  dapper  and  urbane  always,  wanted  Americans  to  develop  a 
few  social  graces,  an  appreciation  of  the  arts,  and  an  enjoyment  of  fine 
food  and  wine. 

There  was  little  compromise  in  Tugwell,  little  readiness  to  accept 
the  good  will  of  all  men,  for,  to  him,  all  men  did  not  possess  good  will. 

5  From  Tugwell's  "Meditations  in  Stinsford  Churchyard,"  as  quoted  in  Lord, 
Wallaces  of  Iowa,  p.  351. 

6  Quoted  by  Russell  Lord  in  "The  Education  of  a  Farm  Reporter,"  Land,  III 
(1943-1944),  219. 

7Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  A  Chronicle  of  Jeopardy,  1945-55  (Chicago,  1955), 
p.  38. 

8Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  The  Stricken  Land:  The  Story  of  Puerto  Rico  (New 
York,  1947),  p.  ix. 

"Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "The  Sources  of  New  Deal  Reformism,"  Ethics,  LXIV 
(1954),  251. 


America  Resettled  149 

He  despised  accommodation  with  evil.  He  was  scrupulously  honest 
and  alarmingly  frank.  Most  of  Tugwell's  unpopularity  sprang  from  his 
inability  or  unwillingness  to  conceal  revolutionary  ideas  in  traditional 
terminology.  He  desired  collectivism  and  called  it  by  that  name.  Be- 
lieving that  science  had  made  possible  a  new  world  of  plenty,  he 
believed  it  the  duty  of  social  scientists  to  forge  the  new  social  institu- 
tions for  the  realization  by  all  of  the  value  of  a  surplus  economy.  The 
social  scientists  had  failed  in  this  noble  task.  They  had  not  pushed  for 
fundamental  reforms,  had  lacked  courage,  and  had  worked  in  a  confined 
orthodoxy.  A  few  critics  and  dissenters  had  been  labeled  fanatics  and 
crushed  even  as  the  early  Christian  martyrs.  As  a  result  they  too  had 
failed  and  "the  apex  of  the  capitalist  structure  glittered  on  a  broad 
base  of  dirty  factories,  ravaged  land,  and  miserable  slums;  but  even  the 
poorest  faces  were  turned  adoringly  to  its  light."  10 

Impeding  adjustment  to  change,  blocking  a  world  of  beauty  and 
plenty,  Tugwell  held,  was  a  hard  crust  of  dogmatized  institutions  and 
ideas.  Tugwell  wanted  to  break  the  crust,  to  stir  up  fruitful  thought, 
and,  at  least  temporarily,  to  prevent  a  new  crust  from  forming.  He 
believed  the  depression  might  be  justified  if  it  helped  to  do  just  this. 
To  him  the  most  iniquitous  institution  was  uncontrolled  capitalism  or, 
related  to  it,  free  enterprise,  laissez-faire  theories,  competition,  or,  in 
his  terms,  any  system  that  permitted  the  "ganging  up"  of  the  un- 
scrupulous few  against  the  many,  any  system  that  invited  struggle 
rather  than  co-operation,  divisiveness  rather  than  unity,  bitterness 
rather  than  tolerance.  The  institution  of  capitalism,  well  justified  in 
the  propaganda  put  out  by  interest  groups,  complemented  in  the 
political  realm  by  negative  governments,  and  perpetuated  because  of 
an  antiquated  worship  of  individualism,  permitted  the  exploitation  of 
both  human  and  physical  resources.  The  depression,  Tugwell  believed, 
was  caused  by  an  inequity  in  income  distribution,  leading  to  a  lowered 
purchasing  power  on  the  part  of  too  many  people.  There  was  too  much 
scarcity  in  the  midst  of  surpluses,  all  of  which  pointed  to  the  necessity 
of  institutional  changes. 

Tugwell  discovered  a  key  to  reform  within  the  very  fortifications  of 
his  greatest  enemy,  business.  Because  of  scientific  business  management, 
industry  had  developed  toward  more  co-operation,  concentration,  and 
efficiency  and  toward  ever  less  competition,  all  of  which  was  good 

10  Tugwell,  A  Chronicle  of  Jeopardy,  p.  38. 


150  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

according  to  Tugwell.  But  since  competition  and  democracy  had  long 
been  believed  to  be  Siamese  twins,  the  trend  in  industry  had  been 
forced  underground  by  misguided,  rural-minded  reformers  who  pressed 
for  a  return  to  more  competition,  less  efficiency,  and  more  struggle. 
The  trend  toward  concentration  had  continued  anyway,  clandestinely 
at  times,  and  the  result  was  large  noncompetitive  organizations  in  no 
way  under  the  control  of  public  interest.  The  lesson  of  business  now 
had  to  be  applied  to  government  and  the  whole  economy.  The  final 
consolidation  had  to  occur  and  the  oppressive  possibilities  of  business- 
operated  industries  had  to  be  eliminated  by  the  public  control  of 
industry.  After  all,  stressed  Tugwell,  modern  business  operations  were 
just  as  much  clothed  with  public  interest  as  were  other  functions 
traditionally  reserved  to  government.  The  identity  of  industry  and 
government  must  be  recognized  as  a  beginning  to  reform.  He  said: 
"When  industry  is  government  and  government  is  industry,  the  dual 
conflict  in  our  modern  institutions  will  be  abated."  n 

Tugwell  desired  an  organic  society,  with  a  unity  of  purpose,  with  a 
co-operative  and  collective  economy,  and  with  a  purposeful,  functioning 
government.  On  the  part  of  the  people  this  would  require  a  willingness 
to  make  some  sacrifices,  for  a  collective  society  would  mean  a  publicly 
controlled  economy,  whether  through  nationalization  or  strict  regula- 
tion of  industry.  It  had  been  most  nearly  approached  in  wartime,  when 
many  controls  were  instituted  by  the  government.  It  would  mean 
a  larger  degree  of  regimentation,  a  necessity  for  discipline,  an  end  to 
individualism  as  an  economic  concept,  and  the  cessation  of  speculation. 
But  it  also  could  mean  no  violent  contrasts  in  income  and  well-being, 
no  irrational  allotment  of  individual  liberty,  no  unconsidered  exploita- 
tion of  human  resources.12  It  would  entail  a  tremendous  growth  of 
government  and  governmental  functions,  with  an  end  to  checks  and 
balances  and  the  spasmodic  legislative  process.  A  strong  executive 
would  have  to  possess  a  large  amount  of  delegated  power.  At  the  heart 
of  government  would  be  the  social  scientists,  the  experts,  the  planners, 
who  would  determine  the  future  needs  and  possibilities  of  society  and 
who  would  lay  out  the  roads  of  progress.  More  than  anything  else, 
Tugwell  was  a  planner.  He  saw  in  a  planned  economy  the  "eventual 

11  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "The  Principle  of  Planning  and  the  Institution  of  Laissez 
Faire,"  American  Economic  Review,  Supplement  no.  1  to  vol.  XXII  ( 1932),  85-86. 
™  Ibid.,  p.  76. 


America  Resettled  151 

possibility  of  a  rewarded  honesty  for  every  man  which  so  few  have 

»  1  o 

now.   3 

Tugwell  did  not  expect  ideality  to  be  just  around  the  corner.  He 
knew  that  planning  implied  a  revolution,  with  new  attitudes,  new 
disciplines,  revised  legal  structures,  unaccustomed  limitations  on  free- 
dom, and  an  end  of  completely  private  business.  It  would,  if  under- 
stood, be  wanted  by  most  people,  but  bitterly  hated  by  others.  It  would 
involve  laying  a  rough  hand  on  "sacred  precedent,"  which  Tugwell 
rather  enjoyed  doing.  There  would  be  no  more  profit  motive.  The 
privileged  groups  in  society  would  use  their  whole  power  to  resist  the 
change,  relying  on  all  the  traditional  gods  to  win  a  majority  to  their 
side.  Not  only  would  business  fight,  but  even  the  legislators  who  sup- 
posedly represented  the  public  interest.  The  depression  aroused  Tug- 
well's  hopes  that  the  "interests"  had  been  so  discredited  that,  in  the 
New  Deal,  an  "organic  nation,  part  linked  intelligently  with  part,  ad- 
vancing to  the  fullest  extent  of  its  capacities,  might  be  realized."  14 
But  his  hopes  were  thwarted.  It  seemed  to  him  that  special  interests, 
which  depended  on  divisiveness,  prevailed.  Tugwell  had  envisioned  a 
revolution  if  reform  did  not  come,  yet  had  hardly  dared  hope  that 
certain  groups  would  ever  voluntarily  or  even  peacefully  permit  the 
reforms  so  badly  needed.15 

In  many  ways  Tugwell  was  a  tragic  figure,  out  of  touch  with  the 
less  intellectualized  majority  of  mankind.  He  was  a  savior  without  a 
flock,  constantly  frustrated  when  most  people  failed  to  respond  to  his 
ideas.  Reform  was  so  slow,  yet  to  Tugwell  so  urgent.  Despite  the 
message  of  deliverance  he  proclaimed,  "stupid"  Americans  continued  to 
rejoice  in  their  old  gods,  in  individualism  and  independence,  refusing 
to  welcome  or  even  rationally  consider  collectivism.  They  continued 
to  heed  the  "interests,"  the  predators,  the  devils,  that  Tugwell  identified 
for  them.  Few  other  intellectuals  spoke  out  as  fervently  and  as  honestly 
as  did  Tugwell,  and  this  made  him  despair.  At  times  he  relapsed  into 
complete  bitterness  or  questioned  the  whole  democratic  process.  To 
him  the  problems  were  so  apparent,  yet  he  was  rejected  by  everyone 
but  a  few  liberals.  Reason  ought  to  direct  the  integration  of  society, 
yet  it  had  not.  Technology  might  prove  an  irresponsible  and  destructive 

13  Ibid.,  pp.  85-86  fn. 

14  Tugwell,  "The  Sources  of  New  Deal  Reformism,"  p.  269. 

15  Tugwell,  "The  Principles  of  Planning,"  p.  92. 


152  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

monster  if  left  in  the  hands  of  capitalist  adventurers.  With  the  advent  of 
the  atomic  bomb  in  1945,  a  somewhat  mellowed  Tugwell  saw  once 
again  the  absolute  necessity  of  an  integrated,  socially  controlled  society. 
The  whole  range  of  his  idealism  and  disillusionment  appear  in  the 
following  remark  about  the  advent  of  the  atomic  age: 

We  now  had,  at  once,  to  acknowledge  that  individualism,  competition, 
private  initiative,  and  production  only  for  profit  were  as  destructive  as 
tigers  loose  in  a  circus  crowd.  We  could  only  live  on  in  our  world  if  we 
collectivized,  cooperated,  produced  for  use,  shared  with  one  another.  But, 
if  we  conformed  to  these  necessities,  we  could  live  as  only  kings,  potentates, 
and  American  millionaires  have  heretofore  dared  to  think  of  living.  We  had, 
in  other  words,  a  choice  between  untold  luxury  for  everyone  and  the  total 
destruction  of  everything.  And  damned  if  I  didn't  half-believe  that  we 
would  choose  destruction!  For  I  was  very  sore  and  cynical  about  American 
intellectuals  and  academicians.  They  had  never  accepted  Patten,  and  every- 
one since  who  had  attempted  his  approach  had  been  ignored.16 

Tugwell  was  somewhat  of  a  misfit  in  the  Department  of  Agriculture, 
but  a  valuable  misfit.  In  the  presence  of  the  agriculturalists,  who  often 
tended  toward  conservatism  and  whose  identities  and  sympathies  were 
most  often  with  the  larger  farmers  and  the  landowners,  Tugwell  was 
not  always  happy  in  his  job  as  Undersecretary.  With  the  famous  purge 
of  the  urban  liberals  connected  with  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Ad- 
ministration in  1935,  only  the  broad  tolerance  of  Wallace  kept  an  un- 
happy Tugwell  in  the  department.  Working  primarily  with  the  older 
agencies  of  the  department,  Tugwell  saw  more  clearly  than  anyone 
else  the  need  for  conservation  and  was  instrumental  in  the  creation  of 
the  Soil  Conservation  Service.  Even  as  the  Agricultural  Adjustment 
Administration  was  helping  the  advantaged  farmer,  Tugwell's  attention 
was  directed  to  the  disadvantaged  farm  groups,  to  the  tenant  and  to  the 
farm  laborer,  who,  Tugwell  believed,  needed  a  labor  union.  Tugwell 
was  more  aware  of  rural  poverty  and  degraded  rural  labor  than  most 
land-grant  college  graduates.  He  wanted  a  section  in  the  department  to 
advance  the  welfare  of  the  little  man,  or  the  lower  one-third.17  The 
Resettlement  Administration  was  this  agency.  Although  it  was  made  an 
independent  agency,  Tugwell's  position  as  Undersecretary  assured  a 

16  Tugwell,  A  Chronicle  of  Jeopardy,  p.  24. 

17  Lord,  Wallaces  of  Iowa,  p.  459. 


America  Resettled  153 

close  relationship  between  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  the 
Department  of  Agriculture. 

The  Resettlement  Administration  was  a  repository  for  a  multitude  of 
New  Deal  programs.  It  had  the  task  of  carrying  on  rural  relief  or  re- 
habilitation, of  continuing  the  whole  land-utilization  program,  and  of 
continuing  and  extending  the  New  Deal  community-building  program 
through  both  rural  and  urban  resettlement.  Rural  rehabilitation  was 
soon  to  include  loans  to  individuals,  loans  to  co-operatives,  grants  to 
destitute  farmers,  and  a  debt-adjustment  program.  An  additional  prob- 
lem was  the  care  of  migratory  workers.  An  editorial  comment  that  the 
order  creating  the  Resettlement  Administration  might  better  have  read 
"To  rearrange  the  earth  and  the  people  thereof  and  devote  surplus  time 
and  money,  if  any,  to  a  rehabilitation  of  the  Solar  System"  18  was  almost 
appropriate.  The  person  who  wrote  the  following  request  can  certainly 
be  excused  for  slightly  overestimating  the  functions  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration:  "May  I  appeal  to  you  to  help  me  collect  five  dollars 
which  I  loan  to  a  fellow  five  years  ago  to  be  paid  back  inside  24  hours 
as  he  was  getting  married  that  day."  19 

To  Tugwell  the  assignment  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  was 
twofold:  rehabilitation  and  permanent  reform.  For  the  more  than  a 
million  farm  families  on  relief  the  Resettlement  Administration  could 
offer  security  through  loans  and  careful  supervision.  But  the  important 
task  was  reform.  Tugwell  believed  this  meant  a  rearrangement  of 
America  according  to  plan.  In  rural  areas  men  were  living  on  land  that 
could  not  provide  security,  largely  because  of  past  mistakes  in  land 
policy.20  This  submarginal  land  would  have  to  be  converted  to  new, 
more  satisfactory  uses,  such  as  for  recreation  or  forest  culture.  Its 
poverty-stricken  inhabitants  would  have  to  be  resettled  on  land  that 
could  provide  security.  This  retirement  and  resettlement  would  change 
the  face  of  rural  America,  but  it  would  not  absorb  all  the  surplus  farm 
population,  for  fewer  and  fewer  farmers  would  be  needed.  Some 
would  be  going  to  the  cities,  where  a  horrible  lack  of  imaginative  city 
planning  had  created  problems  in  land  use  even  more  grave  than  those 

18  Portland,  Maine,  Press-Herald,  May  24,  1936. 

10  John  Bandura  to  Rural  Resettlement,  Aug.  24,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives. 

^Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Changing  Acres,"  Current  History,  XLIV  (Sept.,  1936), 
58-61. 


154  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

in  rural  areas.  Both  to  provide  a  "more  orderly  pattern  for  the  inevitable 
movement  from  farm  to  city"21  and  to  provide  resettlement  oppor- 
tunities for  urban  slum  dwellers,  suburban  towns  or  garden  cities  would 
be  constructed.  Tugwell  was  ready  to  begin  the  unprecedented  task  of 
rearranging  the  physical  face  of  America. 

The  first  task  facing  Tugwell  was  a  staggering  one.  Thrown  together 
into  the  Resettlement  Administration  were  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads,  three  sections  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Adminis- 
tration, the  state  rural  rehabilitation  corporations,  the  Land  Policy 
Section  of  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration,  and  small  sec- 
tions of  several  other  agencies.  These  inherited  agencies,  programs,  and 
personnel  had  to  be  molded  into  a  completely  integrated  administrative 
organization  that  could  direct  several  distinct  programs.  In  addition, 
very  vital  policies  had  be  be  formulated.  Even  as  this  proceeded  there 
was  to  be  a  constant  pressure  for  hasty  accomplishments,  for  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  was  part  of  the  emergency  relief  program 
and  had  legislative  justification  only  insofar  as  it  provided  immediate 
work  relief  for  the  unemployed.22  These  facts  should  partially  excuse 
any  early  mistakes  made  by  the  Resettlement  Administration. 

For  the  office  of  Deputy  Administrator  of  the  Resettlement  Adminis- 
tration, Tugwell  selected  Dr.  Will  W.  Alexander,  a  clergyman,  an  expert 
on  race  relations,  president  of  Dillard  University  in  New  Orleans,  and 
closely  identified  with  several  other  Negro  colleges.  After  the  registra- 
tion of  Tugwell  at  the  end  of  1936,  Alexander  headed  the  Resettlement 
Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration  until  1940.  One 
of  Tugwell's  many  assistant  administrators  was  Calvin  Benham 
Baldwin,  who  had  been  a  Virginia  railroad  worker  and  a  small  business- 
man before  coming  to  the  Department  of  Agriculture  as  an  assistant  to 
Henry  A.  Wallace.  He  was  to  head  the  Farm  Security  Administration 
from  1940  to  1943  and,  even  as  Alexander,  was  to  continue  Tugwell's 
policies.  Lewis  C.  Gray,  farm  economist  and  former  head  of  the 
Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics,  came  to  the  Resettlement  Admin- 
istration with  the  Land  Policy  Section  of  the  Agricultural  Adjustment 
Administration.  He  quite  appropriately  headed  the  land  program  in  the 
Resettlement  Administration,  utilizing  a  large  proportion  of  the  person- 

^Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Down  to  Earth,"  Current  History,  XLIV  (July,  1936), 
38. 

22  Will  W.  Alexander,  "Rural  Resettlement,"  Southern  Review,  I   (1936),  538. 


America  Resettled  155 

nel  formerly  with  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics.  To  direct 
rural  resettlement,  Tugwell  selected  Dr.  Carl  C.  Taylor,  rural  sociologist 
and  M.  L.  Wilson's  early  assistant  in  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads. Dr.  Eugene  E.  Agger,  a  friend  and  former  colleague  of  Tug- 
well's  on  the  economics  faculty  of  Columbia  University,  was  given  the 
very  important  task  of  managing  the  completed  communities.  A  New 
Mexico  lawyer  and  judge,  Joseph  L.  Dailey,  became  the  head  of  the 
rehabilitation  program.  John  S.  Lansill,  a  city  planner,  was  made 
director  of  the  suburban  resettlement  program.  A  lawyer  in  the  De- 
partment of  Agriculture,  Lee  Pressman,  was  borrowed  to  head  the  Re- 
settlement Administration's  legal  staff.  From  the  personnel  of  the  many 
inherited  agencies  the  Resettlement  Administration  selected  those  that 
were  to  be  retained  and  reappointed  them.  Approximately  4,200  em- 
ployees were  thus  acquired  from  nine  different  agencies,  but  it  is 
noticeable  that  most  of  the  top  administrative  positions  were  staffed 
with  new  appointees.23 

In  line  with  the  previous  work  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Administration,  Tugwell  set  up  a  completely  decentralized  organiza- 
tion for  most  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  program,  dividing 
the  country  into  eleven  regions  and  placing  most  of  the  action  pro- 
grams in  the  regional  offices.  Small  offices  were  also  set  up  in  each 
state  and  in  most  counties.  This  form  of  organization  was  necessary 
for  the  rehabilitation  program,  which  involved  loans  and  supervision 
in  practically  every  rural  county  in  the  country.24  The  suburban 
resettlement  program,  limited  to  the  environs  of  a  few  large  cities,  was 
controlled  from  Washington  and  had  no  connection  with  the  regional 
offices.  On  the  other  hand,  the  rural  resettlement  program  was  under 
the  direction  of  the  regional  offices,  but  with  a  great  deal  of  super- 
vision from  Washington. 

The  administrative  organization  of  the  Resettlement  Administration 
was  complex  and  much  criticized.  Instead  of  four  main  divisions  to 
perform  the  four  main  tasks  of  the  Resettlement  Administration — 
rural  relief,  land  utilization,  rural  resettlement,  and  suburban  resettle- 
ment— Tugwell  created  twelve  co-ordinate  divisions.  In  addition  to 
the  four  main  divisions,  such  services  as  management,  planning,  pro- 

23  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  p.  1107. 

24  Tugwell  to  L.  C.  Gray,  Nov.  14,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


156  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

cedure,  information,  investigation,  personnel,  labor  relations,  business 
management,  finance,  and  construction  were  given  full  divisional 
status.25  Under  each  division  there  were  sections,  some  as  large  and 
important  as  other  divisions.  This  plan  of  organization  was  criticized 
on  the  grounds  that  it  led  to  an  overlapping  of  function,  to  higher 
administrative  expenses,  and  to  difficulties  in  allotting  responsibilities. 
Many  believed  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  was  over- 
organized.  Certainly  it  was  not  set  up  as  a  temporary  organization, 
since  whole  divisions  were  devoted  to  determining  procedures,  to  pub- 
lishing information,  and  to  making  investigations.  The  personnel  of 
the  Resettlement  Administration  soon  numbered  over  13,000. 

The  Rural  Resettlement,  Suburban  Resettlement,  Construction, 
and  Management  Divisions  were  most  intimately  connected  with 
the  Resettlement  Administration  communities.  The  Construction  Di- 
vision did  all  the  construction  for  both  Rural  and  Suburban  Resettle- 
ment Divisions.  Rural  Resettlement  approved  plans  for  and  initiated 
all  rural  communities,  as  well  as  continuing  the  planning  of  those 
uncompleted  rural  communities  begun  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  and  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration.  Sub- 
urban Resettlement,  which  had  very  little  connection  with  the  other 
divisions  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  had  complete  control 
of  the  greenbelt  cities  and  the  uncompleted  suburban-type  subsistence 
homesteads.  Management  controlled  completed  communities,  direct- 
ing educational  and  community  activities,  developing  economic  op- 
portunities, selecting  settlers,  organizing  community  governments, 
and  seeing  to  the  maintenance  of  the  buildings  in  the  communities. 
Of  the  other  main  divisions,  the  Land  Utilization  Division  was  pri- 
marily concerned  with  completing  the  land-use  program,  which  in- 
volved over  9,000,000  acres  of  optioned  or  purchased  land  and  over 
200  work  projects  to  develop  new  uses  for  the  land.  From  the  displaced 
persons  resulting  from  this  program  came  many  resettlement  clients. 
Also  in  the  Land  Utilization  Division  was  a  Land  Planning  Section, 
which  acted  as  the  Resettlement  Administration's  main  research 
organization.  It  published  a  Land  Policy  Circular,  studied  the  nation's 
land  problems,  located  areas  for  resettlement  communities,  continued 
the  research  on  part-time  farming,  and  made  studies  that  were  used 

^Tugwell  to  Division  Directors  and  Section  Chiefs,  June  11,  1935,  and  Bur- 
ton D.  Leeley  to  E.  E.  Agger,  Aug.,  1936,  ibid. 


America  Resettled  157 

by  the  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  in  planning  the  greenbelt 
cities.  The  Rural  Rehabilitation  Division  administered  rural  relief, 
lending  millions  of  dollars  to  farmers  and  co-operative  groups  for 
equipment  and  repairs,  making  grants  to  completely  destitute  farmers, 
and  adjusting  the  debts  of  farm  families.  Some  of  its  loans  were  made 
available  to  co-operatives  in  resettlement  communities,  and  many  of 
its  first  clients  "graduated"  into  rural  communities.26 

Cognizant  of  the  problems  already  encountered  by  the  subsistence 
homesteads  and  rural-industrial  communities,  the  administrators  of 
the  Resettlement  Administration  attempted  to  formulate  a  completely 
altered  program  for  its  new  communities.  To  assist  with  the  formula- 
tion of  policy,  Tugwell  and  his  associates  had  the  assistance  of  the 
Land  Planning  Section  of  the  Land  Utilization  Division,  which  co- 
operated with  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics.  They  also  were 
assisted  by  the  Social  Research  Section  which,  as  late  as  1937,  in- 
cluded 114  employees.27  Frederic  C.  Howe,  the  grand  old  man  among 
the  reformers  in  the  Department  of  Agriculture  and  a  very  close 
friend  of  Tugwell,  spent  six  weeks  abroad  studying  housing  and 
rural  settlement.28  The  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  set  up  a 
Technical  Research  Unit  which  studied  English  housing  and  garden 
cities.  In  1935  requests  were  sent  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  asking  that 
the  Consular  Service  provide  information  on  foreign  housing.29  Even 
more  important,  the  Resettlement  Administration  had  the  advantage 
of  all  the  experience  gained  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads and  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration. 

Like  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration received  many  unsolicited  recommendations  for  its  com- 
munity program.  One  man  continuously  advocated  a  tung-oil  planta- 
tion project.30  Another  asked  for  experimentation  in  each  of  the 
following  types  of  communities:  a  German  suburban  homestead;  a 
Swiss  chalet  with  its  cheese  industry;  a  French  ferme  with  its  wine 

20  Resettlement  Administration  Weekly  Information  Report  no.  47,  June  13, 
1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Resettlement  Administration,  Interim  Report 
(Washington,  1936),  pp.  8-9,  17,  23;  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual 
Report  (Washington,  1936),  pp.  10-15,  21-26,  63-64. 

27  Carl  Taylor  to  W.  W.  Alexander,  March  4,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

28  Memorandum  on  Rural  Rehabilitation,  n.d.,  ibid. 

29  Cordell  Hull  to  Henry  A.  Wallace,  June  27,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

30  William  K.  de  Blocq  to  Tugwell,  June  3,  1935,  ibid. 


158  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

press;  a  Danish  co-operative  dairy  farm;  a  Russian  mir  with  its  co- 
operative farm;  a  Bavarian  Dorf  with  its  unusual  crop  rotations  and 
its  carp  farm;  and  a  forest  community.31  Gerald  Geraldson,  director 
of  Brotherhood  House  in  New  York  City,  suggested  that  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  construct  communal  households  resembling 
monasteries,  with  the  men  housed  on  one  floor,  the  women  on  another, 
and  the  children  cared  for  in  a  single  flock.  The  women  would  be 
free  to  arrange  for  "what  ever  amount  of  natural  motherhood  they 
may  desire."  32  The  whole  colony  would  be  controlled  by  the  "One  at 
the  Top,"  who  corresponded  to  a  pope.  All  would  labor  according  to 
ability.  Hailing  the  "Doorway  to  a  new  civilization"  and  "communism 
now,"  Geraldson  stated:  "I  am  free  to  say  that  I  regard  the  family 
as  a  fading  social  institution  and  see  little  of  permanant  [sic]  good 
to  be  accomplished  by  efforts  to  save  or  re-establish  it."  33 

Other  advice  was  of  more  value.  The  Land  Use  Planning  Section 
compiled  an  enormous  report  on  resettlement  policy  and  procedure, 
citing  the  history  of  prior  settlement  efforts  in  the  United  States  and 
abroad.  The  report  reflected  the  cautious  approach  of  the  land  econo- 
mists and  advised  resettlement  on  individual  or  closely  grouped  farms 
rather  than  in  organized  communities.  The  land  economists  urged 
every  possible  encouragement  to  co-operatives,  but  warned  against 
compulsory  or  planned  co-operation.  They  cautioned  against  any  at- 
tempt to  combine  infant  industries  with  farm  colonies  and  asked  for 
an  ultimate  sale  price  based  more  on  an  appraised  value  and  the 
client's  earning  power  than  on  the  actual  cost  to  the  Resettlement 
Administration.  On  the  difficult  problem  of  land  tenure,  they  wanted 
a  permanent  lease  for  the  client  unqualified  for  landownership,  a 
temporary  trial  lease  with  an  option  of  future  purchase  for  the  average 
client,  and  an  extended,  forty-year  purchase  contract  for  the  superior 
client.34 

Also  advising  Tugwell  on  policy  matters  was  a  short-lived  Planning 
Division,  whose  personnel  represented  a  distinctly  nonrural  back- 
ground in  contrast  to  the  Land  Policy  Section.  Its  recommendations 

31  Dmitry  M.  Borodin  to  Tugwell,  May  6,  1935,  ibid. 

32  Gerald  Geraldson  to  Henry  A.  Wallace,  Nov.  24,  1936,  ibid. 

33  Ibid. 

34  Resettlement  Administration,  Land  Utilization  Division,  Land  Use  Planning 
Section,  "Resettlement  Policy  and  Procedure,"  pp.  11-62,  ibid. 


America  Resettled  159 

were,  therefore,  even  less  orthodox.  The  Planning  Division  set  for 
itself  the  question:  "What  influence  do  we  want  the  Resettlement 
Administration  to  have  on  the  current  and  coming  course  of  events 
in  America?"35  On  the  question  of  tenure  in  resettlement  communi- 
ties it  suggested  a  long-time  or  permanent  control  over  real  prop- 
erty by  the  government.  It  advised  against  part-time  farming  as  a 
means  of  raising  living  standards  of  low-income  workers,  stressed 
the  small  economic  importance  of  handicrafts  and  the  greater  pos- 
sibilities of  co-operative  enterprises,  and  recommended  some  planta- 
tion projects  and  completely  co-operative  farms  as  social  experiments. 
It  advised  decentralization  in  existing  industrial  areas  by  town  plan- 
ning of  the  garden  city  type  rather  than  by  setting  up  more  Arthur- 
dales  and  then  praying  for  industry  to  follow.  It  believed  that  tiny, 
remote  settlements  were  not  attractive  and  "should  be  set  on  wheels 
and  moved  to  town."  36  Most  of  all,  the  Planning  Division  questioned 
the  whole  policy  of  loans  as  a  means  to  rehabilitation,  asking  instead 
for  grants  and  a  frank  subsidy  to  an  already-overburdened  group. 
Keith  Southard,  head  of  the  Planning  Division,  believed  that  re- 
habilitation by  loan  was  "a  dubious  insistence  upon  some  of  the 
pioneer  virtues  which  are  actually  anti-social  in  this  period  and  cir- 
cumstance." He  believed  "rugged, but  ragged  individualism"  might 
yield  "advantageously  to  the  co-operative  forms."  These  in  turn  could 
prove  educational  and  create  an  up-to-date  citizenship.  They  might 
"almost  make  Democrats  out  of  Green  Mountain  Republicans."  37 

Tugwell  formulated  an  initial  community  program  that  incorporated 
ideas  from  both  the  Land  Planning  Section  and  the  Planning  Division. 
Although  he  did  not  exclude  a  few  more  subsistence  homesteads 
communities,  TugwelTs  main  emphasis  was  to  be  on  all-rural  com- 
munities for  farmers  and  garden  cities  for  full-time  industrial  workers, 
neither  depending  upon  a  mixed  agricultural  and  industrial  economy. 
The  ideas  of  Elwood  Mead  and  Ebenezer  Howard  were  to  find  their 
fullest  expression  in  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Rural  resettle- 
ment projects  would  include  both  the  infiltration  of  settlers  into  exist- 
ing communities  and  the  creation  of  new  communities.  Although  not 
affirmed,  the  probability  of  some  subsidy  was  accepted;  the  general 

35  Keith  Southard  to  W.  W.  Alexander,  Sept.  30,  1935,  ibid. 
30  Boyd  Fisher  to  Keith  Southard,  June  15,  1935,  ibid. 
37  Keith  Southard  to  Tugwell,  Sept.  4,  1935,  ibid. 


160  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

policy  of  rehabilitation  by  loans,  however,  was  never  dropped,  in 
fact  could  not  have  been  dropped  because  of  public  opinion.  Co- 
operative enterprises  were  to  be  a  major  objective  of  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration.  Tugwell,  who  appreciated  the  need  for  some 
limitation  on  fee  simple  ownership,  stressed  security  as  a  better  goal 
than  ownership,  recognized  that  some  people  needed  continuous  as- 
sistance and  supervision,  and  asked  for  a  long-time  relationship  be- 
tween the  government  and  the  individual,  either  by  a  long  purchase 
contract  or  by  a  conditioned  lease.  Tugwell's  greatest  interest  was 
garden  cities  or  greenbelt  cities.  For  those  he  followed  the  well- 
developed  ideology  of  the  garden  city  movement.38 

The  Resettlement  Administration  was  closely  related  to  both  the 
Extension  Service  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  and  to  the  Works 
Progress  Administration.  Since  the  close  supervision  of  rural  relief 
clients  and  the  development  of  agricultural  plans  for  rural  communi- 
ties involved  extension  work,  the  Resettlement  Administration  and 
the  Extension  Service  drew  up  a  plan  of  co-operation.39  This  never 
led  to  a  close  working  relationship,  mainly  because  of  conflicting 
philosophies.  Tugwell  confided  to  Roosevelt:  "My  greatest  difficulty 
has  been  and  will  continue  to  be  with  the  Extension  Service  which  is 
arrogant,  opinionated — and  largely  Republican  or  reactionary." 40 
Later,  many  extension  agents  would  ally  themselves  with  the  leader- 
ship of  the  Farm  Bureau  in  a  long  battle  against  the  Farm  Security 
Administration.  Underneath  it  all  was  a  class  difference.  The  Ex- 
tension Service  usually  worked  with  a  group  of  farmers  different  from 
those  aided  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  ideas  and 
policies  of  Tugwell  were  anathema  to  the  prosperous,  individualistic, 
independent  farming  class  most  often  represented  in  the  Farm  Bu- 
reau. To  the  landowner,  large  or  small,  Tugwell  must  have  seemed 
the  antithesis  of  the  agrarian  tradition  of  individualism;  his  col- 
lectivism was  alien,  radical,  and  dangerous. 

The  Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Works  Progress  Ad- 
ministration were  both  relief  agencies  with  a  positive  emphasis  on 

^Address  by  Tugwell  to  a  conference  of  regional  directors  of  the  Land  pro- 
gram, June  18,  1935,  and  an  address  by  Tugwell  to  a  session  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration's  regional  directors,  Jan.  28,  1936,  ibid. 

39  Memorandum  of  Understanding  between  the  Extension  Service  and  the  Re- 
settlement Administration,  June  7,  1935,  ibid. 

40  Tugwell  to  Roosevelt,  Nov.  18,  1935,  ibid. 


America  Resettled  161 

useful  work  and  reform;  both  fed  from  the  same  trough,  the  Emer- 
gency Relief  appropriation  of  1935.  Moreover,  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, in  all  its  project  work,  was  committed  by  law  to  the 
use  of  relief  labor  under  Works  Progress  Administration  regulations. 
The  land-utilization  projects  were  approved  only  when  Works  Progress 
Administration  laborers  were  available.  This  forced  relationship  led 
to  some  friction  and  to  a  constant  struggle  for  executive  funds  be- 
tween Tug  well  and  Harry  Hopkins.  The  relationship  became  critical 
in  October,  1935,  when  the  funds  for  land-utilization  projects  went 
to  Hopkins  instead  of  Tugwell,  who  had  already  planned  the  program 
and  assembled  an  administrative  staff.  After  bitter  telegrams  to  Roose- 
velt and  unanswered  messages  to  Hopkins,  Tugwell  was  given  per- 
mission to  supervise  the  program,  although  the  money  remained  in 
the  Works  Progress  Administration.41  Later,  labor  and  construction 
problems  would  cause  added  friction. 

With  personnel,  an  administrative  organization,  and  a  set  of  policies, 
the  Resettlement  Administration  had  to  begin  a  rapid  program  of  work 
relief.  Since  the  unspent  subsistence  homesteads  funds  reverted  to  the 
Treasury  on  June  16,  1935,  Roosevelt,  on  June  24,  1935,  allotted 
$7,000,000  of  the  emergency  relief  appropriation  to  Tugwell  for  the 
completion  of  thirty-three  subsistence  homesteads  communities.  The 
inherited  Rural  Rehabilitation  Corporation  funds  were  available  for 
the  completion  of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  com- 
munities. With  the  $375,511,675  committed  to  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration from  the  $4,880,000,000  Emergency  Relief  Act,  Tugwell 
made  plans,  by  November,  1935,  to  use  $31,000,000  for  four  approved 
greenbelt  towns  and  $49,045,650  for  rural  resettlement  projects.42 
Actually  these  plans  and  allotments  were  very  tentative,  since  they 
were  soon  reduced,  only  to  be  vastly  increased  by  later  deficiency 
appropriations  and  other  emergency  relief  acts.  But  they  indicate  the 
vastly  enlarged  scope  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  as  compared 
with  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  which  spent  only  about 
$8,000,000  in  its  two  years  of  operation. 

Although  the  Resettlement  Administration  received  funds  to  com- 

41  G.  E.  Falke  to  Tugwell,  Oct.  2,  1935;  Tugwell  to  F.  D.  Roosevelt  (telegram), 
Sept  28,  1935;  Tugwell  to  Roosevelt  (radiogram),  Oct.  3,  1935;  Falke  to  Tug- 
well  (telegram),  Oct.  7,  1935;  all  ibid. 

42  Tugwell  to  Roosevelt,  Nov.  18,  1935,  ibid.;  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration Program,  Document  no.  213,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  p.  5. 


162  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

plete  only  thirty-three  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  it  re- 
ceived from  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  plans  for  sixty- 
five  projects,  none  of  which  were  rejected  until  an  investigation  was 
made  by  a  Special  Plans  Division.  Eleven  of  the  industrial  home- 
steads (Bankhead  Farms,  Beauxart  Gardens,  Houston  Gardens, 
Wichita  Gardens,  El  Monte,  Decatur,  Austin,  McComb,  Magnolia, 
Tupelo,  and  Hattiesburg  Homesteads)  were  near  enough  completion 
to  be  assigned  to  the  Management  Division.  By  November,  1935, 
their  construction  was  completed.  By  December,  seven  other  indus- 
trial homesteads  (Palmerdale,  Phoenix,  San  Fernando,  Granger,  and 
Longview  Homesteads;  Dalworthington  and  Three  Rivers  Gardens) 
were  complete.  These  eighteen  communities  gave  the  Resettlement 
Administration  fewer  problems  than  any  other  inherited  communities, 
since  they  were  usually  located  near  economic  opportunities  and 
usually  had  excellent  settlers.  Because  they  were  in  various  stages 
of  construction,  usually  under  piecemeal  contracts,  the  Construction 
Division  had  its  problems  in  completing  them,  often  finding  poor 
accounting  procedures,  bad  workmanship,  and  high  maintenance 
costs.43  The  Resettlement  Administration  completed  these  communi- 
ties according  to  original  plans,  but  often  added  extra  community 
facilities,  such  as  community  buildings.  This,  along  with  the  use  of 
inefficient  relief  labor,  increased  the  fears  of  homesteaders  that  the 
sale  price  of  their  homes  would  be  prohibitive,  for  it  was  not  then 
clear  that  the  sale  would  be  based  on  appraised  value  and  a  con- 
sideration of  the  client's  earning  power  instead  of  on  cost. 

Three  other  industrial  homesteads  (Mount  Olive  and  Greenwood 
in  Alabama  and  Lake  County  Homesteads  in  Illinois)  were  much 
longer  delayed  in  construction.  Duluth  Homesteads;  Cahaba,  near 
Birmingham,  Alabama;  Hightstown;  and  the  Negro  community  near 
Newport  News  were  all  completely  replanned  and  became,  except 
for  the  choice  of  location,  Resettlement  Administration  communities. 
Since  the  homesteaders  in  the  industrial  communities  had  been  prom- 
ised ownership  and  since  the  local  tax  problem  still  plagued  these 
communities,  Tugwell,  soon  after  the  organization  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  announced  that  title  to  the  completed  subsistence 
homesteads  communities  would  be  turned  over  to  co-operative  home- 

43  Resettlement  Administration,  Interim  Report,  p.  49;  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, First  Annual  Report,  p.  69. 


America  Resettled  163 

stead  associations  made  up  of  all  the  homesteaders  in  a  community 
and  that,  through  this  association,  the  homesteaders  would  be  issued 
purchase  contracts.  The  homestead  association,  although  conducting 
all  business,  would  have  to  agree  to  Resettlement  Administration 
supervision  in  order  to  protect  the  government's  investment.  By  July, 
1936,  the  five  Texas  projects  and  Longview  Homesteads  had  been 
turned  over  to  local  associations.44 

Shenandoah  Homesteads  became  a  special  problem  for  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  since  it  was  a  special  type  of  community.  Be- 
cause the  State  of  Virginia  was  purchasing  large  areas  of  mountainous 
land  for  the  Shenandoah  National  Park,  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  had  undertaken  a  resettlement  project  for  the  displaced 
hill  people.  As  planned  there  were  to  be  seven  different  groups  of 
approximately  twenty  homesteads  each,  located  on  small  tracts  both 
to  the  east  and  west  of  the  Shenandoah  chain.  As  the  Resettlement 
Administration  proceeded  with  the  construction  of  these  seven  small 
communities,  a  furor  arose.  Many  of  the  mountaineers  did  not  choose 
to  be  resettled  and,  in  the  hands  of  newspapermen,  became  martyrs 
to  government  planning  and  autocracy.  Letters  such  as  the  following 
from  thirty-one  mountaineers  contained  political  dynamite:  "Don't 
beleave  in  mooven  these  famileys  out  of  there  homes  in  the  Park 
era.  .  .  .  We  all  beleave  in  letting  thes  mountain  people  stay  wher 
tha  are  at  as  long  as  tha  are  not  in  the  way."  45  It  was  useless  for  the 
Resettlement  Administration  to  protest  that  it  was  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginia that  was  forcing  the  moves  and  that  it  had  been  another  agency 
that  had  planned  the  project. 

The  whole  problem  at  Shenandoah  became  aggravated  when 
Virginia's  Senator  Harry  F.  Byrd  began  a  long  campaign  against  the 
Resettlement  Administration,  incensed  by  what  he  interpreted  as  a 
stench  coming  from  gross  inefficiency  and  Russian  communism.  He 
estimated  that  the  cost  of  the  Shenandoah  project  would  reach 
$1,520,219,  that  the  houses  would  cost  from  $6,000  to  $8,000  each, 
and  that  they  would  involve  an  impossibly  high  rent  for  the  simple 

44  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1938,  75th  Cong.,  1st 
Sess.,  1937,  p.  1311. 

45  Will  Bailey  and  Thirty  Others  to  the  Resettlement  Administration,  Oct.  8, 
1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


164  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

mountain  folk.  As  the  first  homes  were  completed,  he  avowed  that  a 
contractor  would  have  built  them  for  $900  whereas  they  cost  $8,000. 
He  decried  the  purchase  of  high-priced  furniture  to  give  to  the  world's 
best  furniture  makers  and  asked  the  reason  for  constructing  costly 
community  buildings  for  these  people.  He  described  the  whole  project 
as  "a  permanent  monument  to  a  waste  and  extravagance  such  as  has 
never  before  been  known  in  a  civilized  country." 46  He  was  even 
more  angry  when  the  Resettlement  Administration  started  to  carry 
out  a  plan  to  have  a  village-type  agriculture  and  a  co-operative  farm 
at  one  of  the  tracts.  Byrd  described  it  as  being  similar  to  Russia  and 
against  all  the  habits,  experiences,  and  traditions  of  the  homesteaders. 
The  plan  was  changed  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.47  As 
completed,  some  groups  of  homes  at  Shenandoah,  with  only  four 
rooms  and  without  baths  and  running  water,  cost  as  low  as  $1,518.19. 
The  high  cost  of  some  of  the  first  units,  which  Byrd  accurately  de- 
scribed, was  caused  by  some  expensive  wells  that  were  condemned 
and  by  the  very  modern  fixtures  in  the  homes.  The  final  audit  of 
Shenandoah  showed  an  average  unit  cost  of  $6,357  for  the  172  units, 
and  this  included  every  single  expense,  including  the  cost  of  the 
land,  roads,  and  management.48 

The  four  stranded  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  Arthurdale, 
Westmoreland,  Tygart  Valley,  and  Cumberland,  were  the  real  prob- 
lem children  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  even  as  they  had 
been  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  Since  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  had  inherited  them,  they  were  now  even  less 
loved.  Although  Arthurdale  came  to  the  Resettlement  Administration 
with  a  long  history  of  expensive  experimentation,  it  was  the  lack  of 
economic  justification  that  was  to  plague  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, since  Tugwell  was  not  averse  to  some  expensive  experimentation 
of  his  own.  The  Resettlement  Administration  soon  learned  the  forget- 
fulness  of  mankind,  for  the  stranded  communities  were  identified  with 
Tugwell  and  became  his  mistakes,  even  though  Tugwell  constantly 
reiterated  that  they  were  established  "on  a  theory  in  which  none  of 

*6  Washington  Star,  May  27,  1937;  correspondence  between  Byrd  and  Henry  A. 
Wallace  in  C.R.,  75th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1937,  pp.  7964-7967. 

*7  C.R.  75th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1937,  pp.  7964-7967. 

48  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  "Shenandoah  Home- 
steads: Final  Report  of  Project  Costs  to  June  30,  1939,"  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


America  Resettled  165 

us  believed."49  He  had  always  believed  fallacious  the  idea  that  in- 
dustry, particularly  in  a  time  of  depression,  would  decentralize  volun- 
tarily, particularly  to  isolated  mountain  communities.  But  since  the 
Resettlement  Administration  had  the  stranded  communities,  Tugwell 
decided  to  make  the  best  of  a  sorry  fate.  He  assigned  them  directly 
to  the  Washington  office  of  the  Management  Division  in  order  to 
spare  the  regional  offices  any  embarrassment. 

The  economic  problems  of  the  four  stranded  communities  went 
to  the  Economic  Development  Section  of  Management.  The  situation 
on  the  four  projects  was  not  encouraging.  At  Westmoreland  only  40 
per  cent  of  the  heads  of  families  had  outside  employment.  Beyond 
the  food  produced  on  their  subsistence  plots,  the  rest  were  dependent 
upon  construction  work  at  the  project  or  on  the  co-operative  farm.50 
At  Arthurdale  there  was  a  limited  amount  of  construction  work,  some 
employment  in  a  co-operative  furniture  factory,  and  prospects  for 
employment  in  a  vacuum-cleaner  factory,  which  was  finally  opened 
in  June,  1936.  At  Tygart  Valley  there  was  a  co-operative  farm,  some 
limited  possibilities  of  employment  in  the  lumber  industry,  but  pri- 
marily work  on  the  completion  of  the  project.  At  Cumberland  most 
of  the  families  were  living  in  barns  while  enjoying  what  was  to  them 
lucrative  relief  wages  as  they  constructed  their  own  homes.  Beyond 
that  there  was  only  the  rather  large  subsistence  plots  of  unfertile 
plateau  soil  or  a  benevolent  government  between  them  and  acute 
destitution.  Three  methods  were  adopted  by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration to  relieve  the  situation  for  the  four  projects.  In  some  cases 
additional  land  was  purchased  and  added  to  the  co-operative  farms. 
In  all  cases  the  construction  was  not  rushed  to  completion  at  these 
projects,  allowing  the  homesteaders  a  longer  period  of  employment. 
But  primarily  the  Resettlement  Administration  relied  on  co-operative 
enterprises  to  benefit  the  communities.  Both  consumers'  and  producers' 
co-operatives  were  organized  and  aided  by  ample  loans.  They  became 
fascinating  experiments  in  co-operation,  but  never  solved  the  economic 
problems.  Tugwell  rejoiced  at  the  use  of  co-operatives,  defied  the 
enemies  of  these  experiments  who  stood  around  "with  bared  teeth," 

49  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Cooperation  and  Resettlement,"  Current  History,  XLV 
(Feb.,  1937),  74. 

50  J.  O.  Walker  to  Edwin  G.  Arnold,  April  9,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report,  p.  55. 


166  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

and  rejoiced  that  the  government  was  finally  organizing  the  sheep 
instead  of  aiding  the  wolves.51 

Of  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  communities  in- 
herited by  the  Resettlement  Administration,  only  two,  Woodlake  and 
Red  House,  were  enough  completed  to  be  assigned  to  the  Management 
Division.  Red  House  was  to  suffer  the  same  economic  ills  as  the 
stranded  subsistence  homesteads.  Woodlake  was  the  first  completed 
all-rural  colony  in  the  New  Deal.  It,  along  with  the  other  uncom- 
pleted Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  communities — prac- 
tically all  rural  and  many  no  farther  advanced  than  land  purchase — 
became  almost  indistinguishable  from  the  all-rural  communities 
initiated  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  same  could  be  said 
for  the  three  all-rural  subsistence  homesteads,  which  were  replanned 
and  completed  as  Resettlement  Administration  communities.  In  many 
cases  the  Resettlement  Administration,  in  its  inherited  rural  colonies, 
vastly  increased  the  acreage  planned  for  the  individual  units,  since 
the  Resettlement  Administration's  emphasis  was  usually  upon  a  com- 
plete farming  economy. 

Except  for  some  of  the  inherited  rural  communities  which  were 
easily  made  to  conform  to  the  Resettlement  Administration's  new 
policies  in  community  building,  the  inherited  communities  were  often 
considered  a  burden  and  a  liability  pushed  upon  the  Resettlement 
Administration  by  other  agencies.  Their  many  problems  could  be 
blamed  on  other  men.  But  not  so  the  communities  planned  and 
initiated  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  These  were  the  favored 
children  of  Tugwell  and  his  assistants.  Most  favored  were  the  garden 
cities  or  greenbelt  towns.  They  had  been  projected  in  the  early  New 
Deal  days  and  were  closest  to  Tugwell's  heart.  Just  after  the  creation 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  Tugwell  had  charted  a  program 
for  the  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  which  included  twenty-five 
suburban  communities.52  Limited  appropriations  and  a  court  decision 
lowered  to  three  the  number  actually  constructed,  but  these  three 
communities — Greenbelt,  Maryland;  Greenhills,  Ohio;  and  Greendale, 

01  Resettlement  Administration,  Weekly  Information  Report  no.  49,  June  27, 
1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  New  Brunswick,  N.J.,  Daily  Home  News,  May 
9,  1936;  Tugwell,  "Cooperation  and  Resettlement,"  p.  75. 

52  Jonathan  Mitchell,  "Low-Cost  Paradise,"  New  Republic,  LXXXIV  (1935), 
152-155;  Tugwell  to  Harry  Hopkins,  July  18,  1935,  R.C.  96,  National  Archives. 


America  Resettled  167 

Wisconsin — were  by  far  the  largest  and  most  important  constructed 
by  the  New  Deal.  They  were  so  different  from  a  majority  of  the  other 
communities  that  they  represent  an  almost  isolated  aspect  of  the 
Resettlement  Administration.  Based  on  world-wide  influence,  the 
greenbelt  cities,  next  to  the  Tennessee  Valley  Authority,  were  prob- 
ably the  most  influential  creations  of  the  New  Deal.  As  such  they  will 
be  given  extended  treatment  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

Beyond  the  three  greenbelt  cities,  the  Suburban  Resettlement 
Division  so  altered  the  plans  of  two  of  the  subsistence  homesteads 
communities  that  they  became  suburban  housing  developments  with 
many  similarities  to  the  greenbelt  cities.  The  Suburban  Resettlement 
Division  also  initiated  one  suburban  project  which  did  not  strictly 
follow  the  garden  city  pattern.  At  Newport  News  the  subsistence 
homesteads  community  for  Negroes  was  converted  into  a  small  Negro 
housing  development  of  159  units,  surrounded  by  a  greenbelt  of  farms 
and  gardens.  Near  Birmingham  the  Resettlement  Administration  in- 
herited from  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  a  tract  of  unde- 
veloped, slag-covered  land  at  Trussville,  Alabama.  On  this  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  began  the  construction  of  the  small  garden 
city  of  Cahaba,  which  was  planned  for  400  units,  although  only  287 
were  completed.  Planned  as  a  small  town,  Cahaba  had  a  central 
water  system,  a  sewage  system,  streets  and  sidewalks,  a  recreational 
area,  a  complete  trading  center,  and  a  community  building  and  audi- 
torium. The  homes  were  on  lots  of  one-half  to  three-fourths  acres, 
which  permitted  individual  gardens.  A  similar  community  was  planned 
and  initiated  near  Ironwood,  Michigan,  by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration. Of  400  planned  homesteads  only  132  were  developed, 
each  containing  five-eighths  acres  of  land.  Ironwood  included  a  com- 
munity farm,  a  canning  plant,  a  small  town  hall,  and  a  park.  Each 
of  these  three  suburban  projects  was  planned  for  leasing  rather  than 
for  sale.53 

The  largest  number  of  Resettlement  Administration  communities 
were  of  the  agricultural  type.  The  Rural  Resettlement  Division 
initiated  over  100  rural  projects,  about  32  of  which  could  be  classified 
as  communities,  although  the  selection  is  very  arbitrary,  since  the 
Resettlement  Administration  resettled  some  families  on  individual, 
scattered  farms,  settled  others  on  contiguous  tracts  of  land  and  pro- 

53  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report,  p.  72. 


168  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

vided  them  community  facilities,  and  placed  some  in  well-established 
rural  communities.  Thus  only  part  of  the  projects  were  complete 
communities.  In  only  two  or  three  cases  was  the  European  village  plan 
tried.  In  this  type  of  community  the  houses  were  grouped  together, 
with  the  fields  lying  at  a  distance.  The  rural  projects  of  a  community 
type  were  predominantly  in  the  South.  Although  planned  and  the 
development  initiated  by  the  Resettlement  Administration,  they  were 
almost  always  completed  by  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  some 
as  late  as  the  beginning  of  World  War  II.  Invariably  they  were  de- 
signed for  a  full-time  agricultural  economy,  with  no  reliance  upon 
industrial  decentralization.  They  were  planned  as  demonstrations  of 
a  better  type  of  rural  life  as  well  as  for  the  rehabilitation  of  the  settlers. 
Prerequisites  of  all  the  rural  communities  included  good  land,  eco- 
nomically adequate  farms,  an  emphasis  on  home  production,  adequate 
buildings  for  health  and  demonstrational  purposes,  modern  con- 
veniences, complete  supervision,  and  co-operative  production.54 

Though  exhibiting  individual  differences,  a  majority  of  the  farm 
colonies  were  similar  enough  to  be  characterized  collectively.  A 
typical  one  would  be  in  the  South.  It  would  contain  about  100  indi- 
vidual farm  units,  inhabited  by  either  white  or  Negro  tenants,  but 
not  by  both.  Each  farm  unit  would  contain  from  40  to  100  acres. 
The  house,  constructed  in  1937  or  1938,  would  be  of  light  frame 
construction,  with  from  three  to  five  rooms  and,  in  a  majority  of  cases 
in  the  South,  without  plumbing.  The  farm  and  home  practices  would 
be  closely  supervised  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  or  its  suc- 
cessor, the  Farm  Security  Administration.  Until  1940  the  tenure  would 
always  be  by  lease,  with  rent  payments  usually  based  on  a  varying 
percentage  of  the  annual  crop  production.  The  community  would 
contain  certain  public  facilities,  such  as  a  school,  a  community  build- 
ing, a  co-operative  cotton  gin,  and  a  warehouse.  In  all  cases  it  would 
include  from  one  to  over  a  dozen  co-operative  enterprises,  operated 
by  a  co-operative  association  sponsored  and  heavily  financed  by  the 
government.  (See  Appendix  for  a  complete  list  of  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration communities. ) 

Of  particular  interest  are  those  rural  communities  which  were  not 
planned  in  conformity  with  the  existing  agricultural  pattern.  At  Lake 
Dick,  Arkansas,  a  4,529-acre  tract  was  made  into  a  large  co-operative 

64  Ibid.,  pp.  33-37. 


America  Resettled  169 

plantation.  A  village  of  sixty  houses  was  constructed  on  the  shore  of 
a  beautiful  lake.  Each  unit  contained  a  two-acre  plot  for  gardens. 
The  village  had  a  central  water  supply,  a  community  building,  a 
co-operative  cotton  gin,  a  co-operative  general  store,  and  the  many 
buildings  needed  for  housing  and  processing  the  livestock  and  crops. 
The  farm  land  was  leased  to  an  association  of  all  the  villagers,  who 
co-operatively  owned  the  livestock  and  farmed  the  land.55  The  indi- 
vidual farmers,  carefully  checked  by  timekeepers,  received  wages  for 
their  work  and  shared  in  any  profits  made  by  the  co-operative  at  the 
end  of  the  year.  Lake  Dick  very  much  resembled  a  day-labor  planta- 
tion, except  for  the  profit  sharing.  The  association  took  the  place  of  a 
landlord,  and  the  government,  by  lending  money  to  the  association, 
replaced  the  local  bank  or  merchant.  Lake  Dick  began  full  operations 
in  1938  and  was  never  a  success.  A  large  number  of  the  tenants  dis- 
liked the  co-operative  system.  Only  twenty-six  units  were  occupied 
in  194 1.56  The  Resettlement  Administration  defended  this  arrange- 
ment as  a  demonstration  of  new  methods  and  as  a  school  for  inex- 
perienced farmers.  At  Casa  Grande  Farms  in  Arizona  the  Resettlement 
Administration  established  a  very  similar  project  which  contained  a 
village  of  sixty  adobe  houses  and  a  large  irrigated  co-operative  dairy 
and  beef  farm,  all  operated  collectively.57 

In  1936  and  1937  the  Resettlement  Administration  purchased  a 
large  sugar-cane  plantation  in  Terrebonne  Parish,  Louisiana,  and  con- 
verted it  into  a  collective  farm  of  seventy-one  families.  The  homes 
were  located  on  six-acre  subsistence  tracts,  making  a  modified  village. 
At  Terrebonne  a  2,800-acre  collective  farm  was  devoted  to  sugar 
cane,  truck  crops,  and  livestock.  The  farm  was  leased  to  the  co- 
operative association  for  99  years.58  The  principle  of  the  co-operative 
farm,  already  used  to  a  limited  extent  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  and  to  a  much  greater  extent  by  the  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration,  was  adapted  to  all  or  parts  of  about  a  dozen 
other  rural  resettlement  projects,  but  without  the  village  plan  for 
the  homes.  The  ninety-nine-year  lease  or  a  forty-year  lease  was  used 

55  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1043. 

58  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1943,  pt.  n,  77th  Cong., 
2d  Sess.,  1942,  pp.  241-242,  246,  248. 

OT  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1038,  1043. 

68  Ibid.,  pp.  1063-1064. 


170  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

on  several  Resettlement  Administration  and  Federal  Emergency  Re- 
lief Administration  communities,  usually  in  connection  with  a  co- 
operative association.  The  village  form  of  agriculture,  the  collective 
farming  enterprises,  and  the  long-term  leases  were  the  most  important 
departures  from  traditional  American  agriculture  and  the  ones  most 
criticized.  The  co-operative  plantation,  such  as  Terrebonne,  was 
defended  as  being  more  in  keeping  with  the  Southern  plantation  style 
of  agriculture  than  were  individual  farms,  particularly  for  a  certain 
untrained  class  of  tenants.  The  lease  system  was  in  line  with  the 
thinking  of  many  land  economists. 

Except  for  the  greenbelt  cities,  all  plans  for  communities  were  sub- 
mitted to  the  Resettlement  Administration  at  Washington  from  the 
regional  offices.  By  April,  1936,  the  regions  had  submitted  196  projects 
for  final  planning  and  approval  by  Tugwell.  These  early  plans  were 
the  nucleus  of  almost  all  the  communities  initiated  by  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration.59  All  community  construction  was  directed  by 
the  Construction  Division.  Employing  up  to  3,000  men  on  each  project, 
the  division  was  committed  to  the  use  of  relief  labor  except  for  cer- 
tain skilled  tasks  that  were  performed  by  people  selected  by  the 
United  States  Employment  Service.60  As  much  as  was  possible  under 
Works  Progress  Administration  commitments,  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration used  its  own  clients  in  construction  work.  In  all  cases 
it  paid  prevailing  regional  wages  and,  as  a  whole,  maintained  an 
enviable  relationship  with  labor,  receiving  commendations  from 
William  Green  of  the  American  Federation  of  Labor  and  from  John 
L.  Lewis  of  the  United  Mine  Workers.61 

The  first  year  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  was  one  of  forced 
haste  and  expensive  experimentation  in  construction.  The  most  obvious 
result  was  extremely  expensive  housing.  Tugwell,  who  believed  that 
housing  methods  had  lagged  far  behind  the  efficiency  exhibited  in 
other  fields  of  endeavor,  was  determined  to  find  new,  mass-production 
techniques  for  the  Resettlement  Administration.  His  first  experiment 
was  in  concrete-slab  construction,  which  involved  one  immensely 
heavy  prefabricated  slab  of  concrete  for  each  side  and  for  the  roof 

59  Resettlement  Administration,  Interim  Report,  pp.  14—15. 
00  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report,  pp.  69-70. 
81  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  Document  no.  213,  74th 
Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  19-21. 


America  Resettled  171 

of  a  house,  all  to  be  quickly  placed  in  position  by  heavy  machinery. 
This  method  was  planned  for  the  greenbelt  cities  and  was  first  ex- 
perimented with  at  Jersey  Homesteads,  where  a  portable  factory  was 
constructed  at  a  cost  of  approximately  $225,000.  Many  of  the  slabs 
cracked  and  the  experiment  failed,  with  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion being  threatened  with  patent  suits.62  Another  much-publicized 
but  less  expensive  experiment  was  tried  at  Mount  Olive  Homesteads 
near  Birmingham,  where  rammed  earth  was  used  in  the  construction 
of  seven  houses.  This  type  of  construction,  though  providing  almost 
perfect  insulation  with  its  seventeen-inch  earthen  walls,  involved  much 
less  expense  for  materials  (mostly  a  mixture  of  soils)  but  much  more 
expense  for  labor,  since  the  earth  had  to  be  packed  between  forms 
by  hand  labor.  In  the  long  run  it  was  feared  that  the  seven  houses 
at  Mount  Olive  would  not  stand  up  to  the  windy,  rainy  climate.  But 
in  1958  they  were  still  standing  and  were  considered  among  the  most 
attractive  homes  at  Mount  Olive.  Later,  under  the  Farm  Security 
Administration,  experiments  were  made  in  all-steel  and  in  cotton- 
duck  construction.  The  most  valuable  experimentation  was  in  rapid 
prefabrication  of  rural,  frame-constructed  homes,  which  later  led  to 
much-lowered  construction  costs.63 

Another  factor  contributing  to  the  high  cost  of  the  early  construc- 
tion was  the  high  standards  maintained.  An  administrative  order  of 
September  23,  1935,  required  all  houses  to  contain  inside  toilets,  baths, 
and  electric  wiring.  Unless  specified  otherwise,  furniture  was  also  to 
be  supplied  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.64  Both  the  high 
standards  and  the  experimentation  were  ended  by  early  1937,  after 
the  resignation  of  Tugwell  and  the  absorption  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration  into  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  A  conference  of 
Resettlement  Administration  and  Department  of  Agriculture  officials 
in  April,  1937,  decided  on  the  future  use  of  standard  house  designs 
only.  They  also  decided  to  limit  the  cost  of  houses  to  $1,200  in  the 
South  and  to  $2,100  in  the  North,  a  difference  dictated  by  climate. 

62  New  York  Post,  Oct.  17,  1935;  Washington  Herald,  Dec.  22,  1935. 

63  New  York  Herald  Tribune,  April  12,  1937;  "Cotton  and  Mud  Go  into  Houses: 
Government's  Effort  to  Use  Native  Materials  in  Low-Cost  Rural  Housing,"  Busi- 
ness Week,  Oct.  28,  1939,  pp.  20-21;  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security 
Administration,  Report  of  the  Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1940  (Washington,  1940), 
p.  17. 

64  Adrian  Dornbush  to  Grace  E.  Falke,  Nov.  27,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


172  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

In  most  cases  this  meant  the  elimination  of  baths  in  the  South  and 
the  construction  of  smaller  homes.  By  1939  only  800  houses  in  the 
South,  out  of  approximately  2,445,  had  baths.  On  one  community 
project  the  average  house  cost  reached  a  low  of  $825.  This  was  made 
possible  by  the  elimination  of  all  purely  decorative  features,  by  a 
reduction  in  the  number  of  gables,  beams,  and  rafters,  and  by  using 
standard  designs  which  permitted  precutting  and  prefabrication  at 
small  portable  sawmills.65 

The  original  Resettlement  Administration  house  designs,  approved 
by  farm  management  experts  and  structural  engineers,  were  further 
perfected  during  construction  operations.  Plans  were  changed  as  many 
as  thirty  times,  with  resultant  savings  of  up  to  $400  per  home.  All 
the  designs  and  improved  techniques  were  turned  over  to  private 
builders  and  the  public  in  1938.  The  continuous  work  of  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  the  Resettlement  Administration,  and  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  in  rural  home  design  represented  an 
innovation  in  American  architecture.  Formerly  rural  homes,  insofar 
as  they  had  any  design,  had  been  modeled  on  urban  homes  or  on 
impractical  designs  from  the  past.  The  resettlement  program  marked 
a  beginning  in  functional  rural  architecture.  It  also  represented  the 
first  beginning  in  rural  public  housing.  Will  W.  Alexander,  Administra- 
tor of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  said  that  "if  we  could  house 
all  our  low-income  farm  families  with  the  same  standards  the  Danes 
use  for  their  hogs,  we  would  be  a  long  step  ahead."  In  order  to  do  this 
he  stressed  the  necessity  of  accepting  a  government  subsidy  for  rural 
housing  even  as  it  had  already  been  accepted  for  urban  housing.66 

The  Construction  Division  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  pro- 
cured all  its  supplies  through  the  Procurement  Division  of  the  Treas- 
ury. In  September,  1936,  this  Procurement  Division  investigated  the 
Resettlement  Administration  projects,  finding  construction  costs  from 
33  to  50  per  cent  higher  than  by  private  contract  under  open-market 
conditions.67  This  naturally  led  to  much  adverse  criticism  of  the  Re- 

65  Memorandum  for  the  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  April  14,  1937,  ibid.;  "Cotton 
and   Mud,"   p.    20;    Department   of   Agriculture,    Farm   Security   Administration, 
Report  of  the  Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1938  (Washington,  1938),  pp.  18-19. 

66  Will  W.  Alexander,  "A  Review  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration's  Hous- 
ing Activities,"  Housing  Yearbook,  1939  (Chicago:  National  Association  of  Hous- 
ing Officials,  1939),  pp.  141-143,  149-150. 

91  Henry  A.  Wallace  to  F.  D.  Roosevelt,  March  19,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National 
Archives. 


America  Resettled  173 

settlement  Administration.  It  was  also  an  accurate  estimate.  A  com- 
parison of  the  unit  construction  costs  of  homes  practically  completed 
by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  under  the  contract  system 
and  those  completely  constructed  by  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion indicates  this  high  cost.  The  unit  costs  of  homes  constructed  by 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  ran  from  $1,916  at  Houston 
Gardens  to  $3,013  at  Decatur.  The  unit  costs  on  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration construction  varied  from  $5,223  at  Newport  News  to 
$8,827  at  Lake  County  Homesteads.68  Some  critics  blamed  the  high 
cost  on  poor  planning  and  poor  engineering,  as  well  as  on  costly 
experimentation.  The  Resettlement  Administration  blamed  it  on  the 
use  of  relief  labor  and  on  the  necessity  of  conforming  to  Works 
Progress  Administration  regulations,  which,  according  to  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  made  any  co-ordination  between  the  planning 
and  construction  divisions  impossible.69 

Legal  and  congressional  obstacles  plagued  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration even  as  they  had  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads. Funds  for  a  vacuum-cleaner  factory  at  Arthurdale  were  tem- 
porarily frozen  by  Comptroller  General  John  R.  McCarl,  and  several 
congressmen  tried  to  prevent  furniture  production  by  the  local  co- 
operatives at  several  different  projects.70  But  the  most  serious  obstacle 
placed  before  the  Resettlement  Administration  came  from  the  courts. 
One  of  the  greenbelt  cities,  Greenbrook,  New  Jersey,  was  planned 
for  an  area  near  Bound  Brook  in  Franklin  Township,  where  the  local 
citizens  were  well  aware  of  some  of  the  mistakes  already  made  at 
Jersey  Homesteads.  As  the  Resettlement  Administration  proceeded  to 
take  options  on  the  land  for  Greenbrook,  a  group  of  citizens  in  Franklin 
Township  filed  an  injunction  against  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion in  December,  1935,  on  the  grounds  that  the  whole  Emergency 
Relief  Act  of  1935  was  unconstitutional,  that  the  order  creating  the 
Resettlement  Administration  was  not  under  the  scope  of  any  United 
States  statute  or  law,  that  the  proposed  community  was  not  for  the 
general  welfare  or  the  common  defense,  and  that  the  Resettlement 
Administration  was  exercising  powers  reserved  for  the  states.71  The 

68  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1938,  pp.  1303-1304. 

69  C.  D.  Kinswon  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  July  20,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

70  C.R.,  74th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1935,  pp.  14383-14384,  14418. 

71  New  Brunswick,  N.J.,  Daily  Home  News,  Dec.  11,  1935. 


174  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

local  citizens  objected  to  the  loss  of  tax  revenue,  since  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  could  pay  no  taxes,  to  the  location  of  the  project, 
to  the  type  of  architecture  planned  (they  feared  the  concrete-slab 
construction  tried  at  Jersey  Homesteads),  to  the  low  class  of  people 
they  believed  would  live  in  the  project,  and  to  the  purchase  of  such 
a  large  amount  of  land  (needed  for  a  greenbelt).72 

When  the  first  injunction  was  denied,  the  citizens  of  Franklin 
Township  filed  a  new  one  in  January  in  Washington,  D.C.,  against 
Tugwell  himself,  retaining  Spencer  Gordon  and  Dean  Acheson  as 
their  attorneys.  After  charges  of  bribery  against  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration officials  had  added  new  heat  to  the  controversy,  the  Court 
of  Appeals  of  the  District  of  Columbia  rendered  a  decision  on  May 
18,  1936,  that  seemed  to  doom  the  whole  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, as  well  as  the  other  relief  agencies.  The  court  ruled,  first  of  all, 
that  the  whole  Emergency  Relief  Act  of  1935  was  unconstitutional, 
since  in  it  Congress  unlawfully  delegated  legislative  powers  to  the 
President  by  not  specifying  the  actual  programs  which  would  be 
financed  by  the  appropriation  under  the  act.  To  the  court  this  was 
"delegation  running  riot." 73  The  Resettlement  Administration  pro- 
gram was  declared  in  opposition  to  state  rights,  since  there  was  no 
constitutional  power  for  the  government  to  regulate  housing  or  to  re- 
settle populations.  The  court  further  ruled  that  the  Emergency  Relief 
Act  of  1935,  even  though  unconstitutional,  did  not  in  "a  word  or 
syllable"  authorize  a  policy  of  resettling  destitute  or  low-income 
families  or  of  establishing  model  communities.74 

The  court  decision  evoked  joy  in  the  hearts  of  all  the  enemies  of 
Tugwell  and  the  Resettlement  Administration.  For  a  few  days  it 
seemed  as  if  the  decision  might  doom  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion to  the  same  fate  as  the  Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration 
and  the  National  Recovery  Administration.  One  editor  exulted  that 
"when  the  Court  of  Appeals  of  the  District  of  Columbia  said  home 
building  is  not  a  public  function,  it  pretty  closely  expressed  the  will 

72  New  Brunswick,  N.J.,  Times,  Nov.  17,  1935. 

73  "Franklin  Township  vs.  Tugwell,"  in  Federal  Reporter  (2d  ser.,  Cases  Argued 
and  Determined  in  the  United  States  Circuit  Courts  of  Appeal,  the  United  States 
Court  of  Appeals  for  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  the  United  States  Court  of 
Customs  and  Patent  Appeals,  St.  Paul,  1937),  LXXXV,  209. 

id.,  pp.  219-220;  "Editorial,"  Literary  Digest,  CXXI  (May  30,  1936),  10. 


America  Resettled  175 

and  desire  and  thought  of  the  plain  people  of  the  nation/' 75  On  May 
19,  1936,  one  day  after  the  decision,  the  Attorney  General  ruled  that 
the  decision,  despite  its  sweeping  language,  applied  only  to  the  Green- 
brook  project,  the  only  one  included  in  the  injunction.  Tugwell  him- 
self withheld  comment  pending  an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court,  but 
stressed  the  fact  that  other  construction  would  proceed.  The  only  re- 
sult of  the  decision  was  that  the  Greenbrook  project  was  discontinued. 
During  the  time  allowed  for  an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court,  the 
other  greenbelt  cities  were  pushed  toward  completion.  The  Re- 
settlement Administration  had  wisely  decided  not  to  risk  an  appeal  to 
the  higher  court,  but  rather  surrendered  the  one  project  and,  per- 
haps, salvaged  the  rest  of  its  program.  An  ironic  ending  to  the  Green- 
brook  story  came  on  July  9,  1936,  with  the  death  of  Henry  Wright, 
who  had  been  coplanner  of  Radburn,  New  Jersey,  and  who,  work- 
ing for  the  Resettlement  Administration,  had  lovingly  designed  his 
last  garden  city  for  the  doomed  Greenbrook  site.76 

One  of  the  principal  reasons  for  the  Greenbrook  trouble  was  the 
inability  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  to  make  payments  in 
lieu  of  taxes.  On  the  recommendation  of  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion officials,  a  corrective  bill  was  introduced  in  the  House  by  Repre- 
sentative William  B.  Rankhead  of  Alabama  on  May  27,  1936,  nine 
days  after  the  court  decision.  It  not  only  permitted  the  Resettlement 
Administration  to  make  payments  to  local  governments  in  lieu  of 
taxes  but  definitely  established  the  state's  political,  civil,  and  criminal 
jurisdiction  over  Resettlement  Administration  projects.  Complemented 
by  a  similar  bill  in  the  Senate,  the  Bankhead  bill  became  law  on 
June  20,  1936,  without  serious  opposition,  since  it  was  modeled  on 
similar  legislation  passed  for  the  Public  Works  Administration.77 

In  February,  1936,  a  series  of  four  articles  entitled  "Utopia  Un- 
limited" appeared  in  the  Washington  Post.  Written  by  a  staff  writer, 
Felix  Brunner,  this  series  was  a  revelation  to  many  people,  including 
some  congressmen,  and  was  reprinted  in  newspapers  all  over  the 
country.  Although  Tugwell  and  many  of  his  individual  projects,  such 

75  Grand  Rapids,  Mich.,  Herald,  May  25,  1936. 

78  New  York  Times,  July  9,  1936. 

77C.R.,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  8145,  10596-10597;  House  Subcom- 
mittee of  the  Committee  on  Ways  and  Means,  Hearings  on  H.R.  12876,  Payments 
in  Lieu  of  Taxes  on  Resettlement  Projects,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  1-2. 


176  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

as  Greenbelt,  Maryland,  had  received  much  publicity,  mainly  of  a 
derisive  sort,  the  over-all  work  of  the  Resettlement  Administration 
was  ill  understood.  Combining  an  accurate  statement  of  facts  with 
subtle  insinuations,  Brunner  described  what  he,  perhaps  correctly, 
considered  the  most  far-flung  experiment  in  government  paternalism 
in  American  history.  He  pointed  out  that  the  executive  order  creat- 
ing the  Resettlement  Administration  gave  Tugwell  unlimited  powers. 
He  stressed  the  immensity  and  irresponsibility  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  correctly  listing  the  number  of  people  in  its  employ  at 
13,045.  He  conveyed  an  emotional  repugnance  by  the  use  of  such 
words  as  "campus  houses,"  "communistic,"  and  "utopian,"  but  the 
kernel  of  his  attack  was  his  insistence  upon  the  impossibility  of 
limiting  or  controlling  the  actions  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion. It  had  not  been  created  by  Congress.  Its  too  numerous  employees 
were  not  under  civil  service.  Its  huge  and  expensive  program  was  not 
the  considered  objectives  of  the  people  or  of  Congress,  but  of  a  few 
planners,  such  as  Tugwell,  who  were  not  responsible  to  the  people's 
desires  and  who  had  radical  ideas  about  "making  America  over/' 78 
Brunner's  attack  probably  isolated  the  basic  weakness  of  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  and  the  one  that  eventually  doomed  much 
of  its  program.  Many  aspects  of  the  resettlement  program  were  not 
based  on  wide  public  support,  despite  the  Information  Division's  at- 
tempts to  maintain  good  public  relations.  Tugwell  believed  in  broad, 
delegated  executive  powers  which  would  permit  the  wide  leeway 
needed  by  planners  and  experts.  He  was  disdainful  of  congressmen, 
who,  to  him,  all  too  often  failed  to  represent  the  best  interests  of  the 
people  they  were  supposed  to  serve.  He  also  doubted  the  efficiency 
of  the  slow  legislative  process,  particularly  in  times  of  emergency. 
Thus  Tugwell,  with  his  broad  authority  under  the  executive  order, 
set  up  a  large  administration  and  initiated  an  ambitious  program 
without  any  clear  mandate  from  Congress.  The  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration was  itself  legislator  and  executor.  Many  of  the  policy 
decisions  made  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  staff  would  never 
have  found  majority  support  in  Congress.  Tugwell  probably  realized 
this.  Yet  he  felt  that  his  staff,  much  more  than  Congress,  with  its  con- 

78  Felix  Brunner,  "Utopia  Unlimited,"  Washington  Post,  Feb.  10,  11,   12,  13, 
1936. 


America  Resettled  177 

flicting  interests,  knew  what  the  lower  third  of  rural  and  urban 
America  needed.  Thus  he  set  out,  in  a  limited  sense,  to  make  America 
over.  He  knew  it  needed  remaking,  whether  it  wanted  it  or  not.  But 
just  when  he  had  barely  begun  the  task,  he  began  to  face  opposition 
from  the  courts,  from  the  public,  and  from  Congress.  As  the  emergency 
lessened,  Congress  once  again  became  jealous  of  its  legislative  and 
policy-making  authority  and  wanted  it  back.  This,  in  the  eyes  of  many 
congressmen,  meant  eventual  retribution  to  an  upstart  like  Tugwell, 
particularly  if  Tugwell  made  some  mistakes.  Tugwell  may  have  been 
more  nearly  right  than  anyone  else.  He  may  have  correctly  identified 
his  opposition  as  the  instruments  of  special  interests.  But,  in  any  case, 
his  program  was  doomed  unless  it  found  favor  with  a  majority  of 
congressmen,  for  Congress  controlled  the  purse  strings. 

The  most  vulnerable  aspect  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  was 
its  communities,  regardless  of  whether  they  were  inherited  or  initiated 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Congressional  disfavor  had  first 
appeared  in  connection  with  the  Post  Office  venture  at  Arthurdale, 
and  many  congressmen  continued  to  view  with  alarm  any  attempts 
to  create  industries  for  the  homesteaders.  The  huge  expense  of  con- 
structing the  individual  communities  provided  ammunition  for  con- 
gressmen like  Byrd  of  Virginia.  The  revelation  of  Brunner  opened  the 
whole  administrative  organization  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion to  congressional  criticism.  Representative  Roy  O.  Woodruff  of 
Michigan  compared  the  Resettlement  Administration  with  the  Passa- 
maquoddy  and  shelter-belt  projects.  He  had  received  a  letter  from  a 
disgruntled  Resettlement  Administration  official  which  purported  to 
prove  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  paid  $2,000,000  a  month 
in  payrolls  to  glorified  relief  clients  who  were  creating  a  bureaucratic 
empire  for  themselves,  that  894  men  in  the  Management  Division 
managed  nothing,  that  the  Construction  Division  spent  $30,000  a  day 
to  build  no  more  than  ten  houses  a  month,  and  that  16,000  employees 
represented  a  government  within  a  government.  Woodruff,  like  many 
other  congressmen,  blamed  the  mistakes  made  at  the  Matanuska, 
Alaska,  project  by  the  Works  Progress  Administration  on  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  and  defined  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion philosophy  as  one  maintaining  that,  "by  shifting  people  around 
from  where  they  are  to  where  Dr.  Tugwell  thinks  they  ought  to  be, 


178  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

somehow  in  the  process  the  subjects  of  his  experimentation  will  realize 
the  'more  abundant  life/ " T9  Woodruff  also  erroneously  stated  that 
Tugwell  spent  $13,000  in  administration  for  every  $2,500  of  aid  given 
to  the  needy.  This  accusation  was  similar  to  many  others  that  tended 
to  identify  the  Resettlement  Administration's  activities  only  with  its 
communities.  For  example,  many  people  could,  and  did,  point  to 
Tugwell's  13,500  employees  in  1936  and  then  to  the  less  than  4,000 
clients  in  the  completed  communities,  thereby  completely  ignoring 
the  vast  rehabilitation  program  which  required  the  largest  number 
of  personnel  and  distributed  the  largest  share  of  the  funds.  But  the 
critics  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  did  have  one  factual  point 
of  criticism.  To  May,  1936,  the  end  of  its  first  full  year  of  operation, 
the  Resettlement  Administration  spent  or  obligated  $205,000,000.  Of 
this  $23,000,000  went  for  administrative  expenses,  or  more  than  10 
per  cent,  which  was  not  an  enviable  record.  The  large  administrative 
costs  were  defended  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  officials  as 
necessary  to  initiate  a  new  and  complicated  program.80 

Senator  W.  Warren  Barbour  of  New  Jersey  became  one  of  the  most 
consistent  critics  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  particularly  be- 
cause of  mistakes  made  at  Jersey  Homesteads.  At  the  time  of  the 
legal  snarl  over  the  Greenbrook  project,  he  led  a  campaign  in  the 
Senate  for  a  congressional  investigation  of  Tugwell's  agency.  On 
March  11,  1936,  he  introduced  a  resolution  which  called  for  an  in- 
vestigation of  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion's expenditures,  the  nature  and  extent  of  its  projects  already  under- 
taken and  the  advisability  of  future  projects,  the  effect  of  projects 
on  state  and  local  taxing  units  and  on  real  estate  values,  the  extent 
to  which  such  projects  benefited  labor,  and  the  circumstances  relating 
to  the  selection  of  tenants  and  purchasers,  as  well  as  the  effect  on 
these  people  selected.  Although  this  resolution  was  tabled  by  a  vote 
of  32  to  30,  Barbour  continued  his  attack.  Using  arguments  supplied 
by  Felix  Brunner,  he  emphasized  the  enormous  size  of  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  with  its  sixteen  divisions,  its  twenty-seven 
buildings,  its  own  telephone  exchange,  and  its  large  personnel.  He 
particularly  stressed  its  irresponsibility  to  Congress.  To  enable  Con- 
gress to  obtain  the  inside  information  on  such  a  large  program  existing 

79C.R.,  74th  Cong,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  6110-6111. 
80  Hearings  on  Payments  in  Lieu  of  Taxes,  pp.  6-7. 


America  Resettled  179 

without  law,  Barbour  secured  the  acceptance  of  a  resolution  asking, 
not  for  a  congressional  investigation,  but  for  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration to  provide  the  Senate  with  a  full  account  of  its  work. 
Tugwell  already  had  the  report  about  ready  and  submitted  it  on 
May  12,  1936.81 

The  Resettlement  Administration  had  congressional  friends  as  well 
as  enemies.  Its  rehabilitation  programs  were  widely  praised.  Repre- 
sentative Fred  H.  Hildebrandt  of  South  Dakota  praised  Tugwell  and 
asked  why  not  "make  America  over."  He  believed  it  was  needed.82 
Representative  Maury  Maverick  of  Texas,  who  knew  Tugwell  per- 
sonally, sympathized  with  him,  since  he  believed  that  Tugwell  had 
received  more  unjust  criticism  than  any  other  person  in  Washington. 
He  declared  that  Tugwell  was  not  a  "wild  man  from  Moscow"  and 
that  he  had  tackled  an  unappreciated  and  tremendously  difficult  task 
in  forming  a  new  organization  to  handle  four  separate  and  tough  jobs. 
He  also  defended  the  administrative  organization  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  which,  according  to  Maverick,  followed  civil  service 
salary  scales  and  was  just  a  step  below  the  Tennessee  Valley  Author- 
ity in  efficiency.83  In  the  Senate,  Robert  La  Follette  declared  that  his- 
tory would  judge  the  Resettlement  Administration  favorably,  even 
though  fun  had  been  "poked  at  this  program  of  resettlement  by  those 
too  stupid  or  too  blind  to  care  about  the  future."  84 

In  May,  1936,  the  Senate,  in  debating  a  deficiency  appropriation 
bill,  defeated  by  a  vote  of  38  to  28  an  Appropriations  Committee 
amendment  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  section  of  the  ap- 
propriation which  substituted  "loans"  for  "rural  rehabilitation." 85 
This  defeated  what  was  clearly  an  early  attempt  to  limit  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration's  activities  to  loans.  The  1936  deficiency  ap- 
propriation did  not  continue  the  Resettlement  Administration's  right 
to  purchase  land,  although  this  right,  granted  by  Roosevelt  under  the 
1935  relief  act,  continued  until  1937.86  These  expressions  of  congres- 
sional displeasure  were  contemporaneous  with  the  court  opinion  about 
the  Greenbrook  project.  As  a  result  the  Resettlement  Administration, 

^C.R.,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  3547,  6194,  6264-6267,  7141.  The  report 
was  contained  in  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  Document 
no.  213,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936. 

^C.R.,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  p.  3716.  "Ibid.,  pp.  4068-4070. 

84  Ibid.,  pp.  8184-8185,  8187.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  8184-8185,  8202. 

86  Hearings  on  the  Agricultural  Appropriation  Bill  for  1938,  p.  1191. 


ISO  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

in  September,  1936,  announced  the  curtailment  of  its  community  pro- 
gram to  projects  already  planned,  which,  in  light  of  the  large  number 
in  the  planning  and  early  construction  stages,  meant  very  little  ex- 
cept that  no  more  project  plans  would  be  accepted  from  the  regional 
offices.87  Both  Tugwell  personally  and  the  resettlement  communities 
were  objects  of  attack  in  the  election  of  1936.  As  early  as  March, 
1936,  the  Republican  National  Committee  had  declared  that  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  was  setting  up  communist  farms.88 

By  election  time  it  was  rumored  that  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion would  soon  be  absorbed  by  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  Tug- 
well,  already  planning  his  resignation  from  government  service,  de- 
sired a  more  permanent  status  for  his  Resettlement  Administration 
and  had  been  urging  Roosevelt  to  place  it  in  the  Department  of 
Agriculture,  a  move  that  would  have  been  in  line  with  Roosevelt's 
desire  to  consolidate  many  of  the  New  Deal  agencies.  On  the  other 
hand,  many  Department  of  Agriculture  officials  were  fearful  of  the 
move,  seeing  a  possibility  of  another  feud  between  the  right  and  left 
wings  within  the  department.  Wallace  was  definitely  undecided 
whether  or  not  to  accept  and  continue  the  resettlement  program. 
In  November,  Roosevelt,  following  up  many  of  Tugwell's  sugges- 
tions about  tenure  and  tenancy  and  in  recognition  of  a  tenant-purchase 
bill  already  introduced  into  Congress  by  Senator  John  H.  Bankhead, 
appointed  a  special  committee  on  farm  tenancy  to  make  a  national 
study  of  the  problem.  Wallace  and  Tugwell  were  both  on  the  com- 
mittee, Wallace  as  chairman.  Just  after  the  announcement  of  the 
formation  of  the  committee,  Wallace  and  Tugwell  left  for  an  im- 
portant tour  of  the  South,  both  to  inspect  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion program  and  to  study  the  tenancy  situation.  It  was  Wallace's 
first  trip  to  the  area  and  proved  to  be  a  very  educational  one.  Wallace 
was  visibly  stirred  by  some  of  the  poverty  and  exploitation.  Long 
before  the  trip  was  over,  he  was  completely  convinced  of  the  need 
for  a  continued  Resettlement  Administration.  He  announced  that  the 
Resettlement  Administration,  which  had  done  a  "really  marvelous 
job,"  would  probably  become  a  part  of  the  permanent  program  of 
the  Department  of  Agriculture.  This  was  a  notable  victory  for 
Tugwell.89 

^Washington  Post,  Sept.  2,  1936. 

88  New  York  Herald  Tribune,  March  31,  1936. 

89  New  York  Times,  Nov.  14,  1936,  p.  3;  Nov.  18,  p.  1;  Nov.  26,  p.  36. 


America  Resettled  181 

Meanwhile,  just  as  the  tour  began,  Tugwell  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  retiring  from  government  service  in  order — of  all  things  for 
an  avowed  enemy  of  business — to  join  two  of  his  friends,  Charles 
W.  Taussig  and  Adolf  A.  Berle,  Jr.,  in  the  molasses  business.  Tugwell 
then  gave  only  personal  reasons  for  his  resignation,  although  there 
was  much  speculation  in  Washington  about  the  old  feud  within  the 
Department  of  Agriculture  between  liberals  and  conservatives,  about 
Tugwell's  seemingly  indiscreet  statements  in  the  recent  political  cam- 
paign, and  about  his  long-time  role  as  "whipping  boy"  in  the  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture  and  even  for  the  whole  New  Deal.  Years  later 
Tugwell  hinted  that  it  was  really  Roosevelt  who  desired  his  resigna- 
tion, not  for  personal  reasons  but  for  political  expediency.90  In  any 
case,  Tugwell  left  as  a  friend.  His  resignation  from  both  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  and  the  Department  of  Agriculture  became  ef- 
fective on  December  31,  1936,  at  which  time  his  beloved  Resettlement 
Administration,  by  an  executive  order,  became  part  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture.  Dr.  Will  W.  Alexander  became  Tugwell's  hand- 
picked  successor  as  Administrator  of  the  Resettlement  Administration. 
One  colleague  aptly  remarked  that  the  Department  of  Agriculture 
"was  a  somewhat  duller  but  more  peaceful  place  with  Tugwell 
gone."  91 

After  its  transfer  to  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration's  community-building  program  was  slowly  re- 
vised. A  greater  emphasis  was  placed  on  the  infiltration  type  of 
resettlement.  Experimentation  in  construction  was  replaced  by  stand- 
ard designs.  It  was  decided  that  construction  efforts  would  be  centered 
on  the  completion  of  projects  already  under  way.  Planning  activities 
gave  place  to  community-management  problems,  with  the  Manage- 
ment Division  absorbing  the  Rural  Resettlement  and  Special  Skills 
Divisions.  This  conformed  to  the  expressed  desire  of  the  Senate,  which 
almost  (by  a  vote  of  36  to  42)  deducted  $14,000,000  from  the  1937 
Resettlement  Administration  appropriation  in  order  to  show  its  desire 
to  have  all  old  projects  completed  before  new  ones  were  started.  The 
Senate  also  threatened  to  remove  $1,000,000  from  the  appropriation  for 
administrative  expenses  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  in  order 

^Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  The  Democratic  Roosevelt  (Garden  City,  N.Y.,  1957), 
p.  547. 

w  New  York  Times,  Nov.  19,  1936,  p.  1,  and  Nov.  26,  1936,  p.  36;  Lord,  Wal- 
laces of  Iowa,  p.  462. 


182  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

to  show  its  disapproval  of  administrative  expenses  that  often  ran  as 
high  as  18  per  cent  of  the  total  budget  and  its  displeasure  at  high 
construction  costs,  which  sometimes  totaled  as  much  as  $14,750  for 
each  homestead  unit.  With  the  1937  appropriation,  the  Resettlement 
Administration  had  received  $536,000,000  since  its  inception.  This 
provoked  Representative  Robert  F.  Rich  of  Pennsylvania  to  call  it  the 
most  costly  experimentation  in  American  history,  approaching  a 
"national  scandal."  92 

In  the  New  Deal  the  lowly  tenant  farmer  became  the  subject  of 
a  nation's  attention.  The  problem  of  tenancy,  more  than  any  other, 
united  urban  liberals  and  Jeffersonian  purists,  for  both  could  agree 
on  the  seriousness  of  the  malady  if  not  on  the  remedy  for  it.  As  early 
as  1935  a  bill  involving  an  appropriation  of  $1,000,000,000  for  tenant 
purchase  passed  in  the  Senate,  only  to  die  in  the  House.  In  1936 
Roosevelt  appointed  his  special  Presidential  Committee  on  Farm 
Tenancy,  which  included,  in  addition  to  Wallace  and  Tugwell,  many 
of  America's  foremost  agricultural  leaders.93  The  committee  made  a 
gloomy  report  in  February,  1937.  Two  out  of  every  five  farmers  in 
the  United  States  were  tenants;  fully  one-half  of  all  farmers  were  in- 
secure in  their  tenure.  The  submerged  groups  of  farmers  were  losing 
incentive,  and  an  old  American  ideal  was  rapidly  passing.  Rigid  class 
lines  were  forming  as  the  normal  democratic  processes  broke  down  in 
rural  areas.  Only  the  assumption  of  responsibility  by  the  federal  gov- 
ernment could  reverse  the  trend.94 

As  an  answer  to  the  problem  of  tenancy  and  rural  insecurity,  the 
committee  endorsed  the  beginning  work  of  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, but  asked  for  an  expanded  organization  within  the 
Department  of  Agriculture  to  be  called  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion. The  new  agency  would  continue  land  retirement,  resettlement, 
and  rehabilitation,  but  would  also  purchase  land  and  sell  it  to  quali- 
fied tenants  under  long  purchase  terms.  Sale  would  only  follow  a 
trial  lease,  and  no  title  would  be  granted  until  after  the  first  twenty 
years  of  a  forty-year  purchase  contract.  Repayment  would  be  based 
on  crop  yields.  As  experiments,  it  recommended  some  government 

"C.R.,  75th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1937,  pp.  637,  678,  681,  687,  6819-6820. 

3  "Report  of  the  President's  Committee  on  Farm  Tenancy,"  in  U.S.  House  of 
Representatives,  Activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  no.  1430, 
78th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1944,  pp.  89-90. 

™lbid.,  pp.  70-75. 


America  Resettled  183 

leasing  of  land  and  a  few  collective  farms.  But  in  the  main  it  asked 
for  ultimate  fee  simple  ownership  of  family-sized  individual  farms, 
whose  basic  economic  disadvantages  could  be  overcome  by  co-opera- 
tive ownership  of  heavy  machinery  and  breeding  stock.  To  retard 
speculation  in  land  it  recommended  a  capital-gains  tax  on  any  profit 
made  on  land  for  the  first  three  years  after  purchase.95 

In  Congress  the  best  eloquence  of  the  politicians  was  called  upon 
to  defend  the  small  farmer  and  home  ownership.  Representative 
William  B.  Bankhead  of  Alabama  went  to  great  lengths  to  picture 
the  desperate  plight  of  the  farm  tenant,  of  a  "desolate,  hopeless,  de- 
jected man,  working  some  other  man's  property,  pillaging  it,  despoil- 
ing its  rich  resources  by  virtue  of  the  fact  that  it  is  not  his."  Then, 
after  a  fitting  quotation  from  "The  Man  with  the  Hoe,"  he  asked:  "Do 
you  own  a  farm,  do  you  own  a  lot  in  the  city,  have  you  fee-simple 
title  to  your  own  property?  Subconsciously  the  satisfaction  is  great 
to  go  out  on  your  own  acres,  on  your  own  land,  put  your  feet  down 
upon  it,  look  up  into  the  sky  and  say  this,  thank  God,  this  little  bit 
is  mine."  Now  Congress  had  an  opportunity  to  allow  tenants  to  "put 
off  the  sackcloth  and  ashes  that  they  have  worn  for  so  many  years 
with  an  inferiority  complex  and  stand  up  and  look  into  the  face 
of  the  sun  and  their  Creator  and  say,  'By  the  generous  grace  of  a 
sympathetic  Government  I  am  being  given  another  opportunity  to 
prove  "the  mettle  of  my  pasture." ' 

Actually,  despite  its  obvious  concern,  Congress  showed  no  inclina- 
tion to  enact  the  far-reaching  reforms  and  experiments  advocated  by 
the  Committee  on  Farm  Tenancy.  In  1937,  Senator  John  H.  Bank- 
head  of  Alabama  introduced  a  bill  to  alleviate  tenancy  through  land 
purchase  by  a  federal  corporation  which,  in  turn,  was  to  lease  or  sell 
land  to  tenants  under  a  supervised  program.  In  the  House,  Repre- 
sentative Marvin  Jones  of  Texas  introduced  a  comprehensive  farm 
tenancy  bill  which  provided  for  direct  land-purchase  loans  to  tenant 
farmers  and,  in  addition,  continued,  in  a  limited  form,  the  rehabilita- 
tion and  submarginal-land  programs  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, although  the  resettlement  communities  were  repudiated.97  The 
members  of  the  House,  including  Marvin  Jones,  were  very  fearful  of 
bureaucratic  centralization  and  thus  tried  to  eliminate  any  supervisory 

95  Ibid.,  pp.  76-82.  w  C.R.,  75th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1937,  p.  6453. 

"Ibid.,  pp.  6433-6435,  6663-6665. 


184  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

program  in  connection  with  tenant  purchase.  In  fact,  they  specifically 
forbade  land  purchase  by  the  Department  of  Agriculture  in  connec- 
tion with  the  program.  The  Senate,  more  nearly  following  the  recom- 
mendations of  the  Committee  on  Farm  Tenancy  and  less  fearful  of 
bureaucracy,  desired  a  governmental  agency,  somewhat  like  the  Re- 
settlement Administration,  to  purchase  land  and  supervise  the  tenant 
purchasers,  thus  lessening  failures  and  eliminating  speculation.  The 
Senate  bill  passed  by  voice  vote,  the  House  bill  by  a  vote  of  308  to 
25,  illustrating  the  near  unanimity  of  approval.  In  conference  the 
major  provisions  of  the  House  bill  were  adopted,  since  the  House 
conferees  were  bound  by  their  colleagues  to  stand  firm  for  direct 
loans  to  tenants.  The  Senate's  desire  for  supervision  and  protection 
was  embodied  in  a  five-year  prohibition  against  sale  on  the  part  of  a 
tenant  purchaser.  The  combined  bill,  now  named  the  Bankhead- Jones 
Farm  Tenant  Act,  passed  both  houses  of  Congress  by  voice  vote  in 
July,  1937.  It  provided  for  a  Farmers'  Home  Corporation  which  was 
to  lend  money  to  a  limited  number  of  tenant  farmers  selected  by 
county  committees.  The  program  was  to  be  administered  by  the  Secre- 
tary of  Agriculture,  who  was  authorized  to  lend  $10,000,000  the  first 
year,  $25,000,000  the  second,  and  $50,000,000  thereafter.98 

The  tenant-purchase  program  authorized  by  the  Bankhead-Jones 
Act  had  a  close  relationship  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  pro- 
gram. It  dealt  with  the  lowly  class  of  farmers  and  continued  a  limited 
tenant-purchase  program  already  tried  by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration in  the  South.  Included  in  the  Bankhead-Jones  Act  were 
sections  which  gave  the  first  specific  congressional  mandate  for  aspects 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration  program.  Special  provisions  con- 
tinued the  rehabilitation  and  land-purchase  programs,  although  no 
money  was  appropriated  for  rehabilitation.  A  small  but  important 
section  defined  the  congressional  attitude  toward  the  resettlement 
communities  and  the  land-development  projects.  The  Secretary  of 
Agriculture  was  authorized  to  continue  to  perform  such  functions 
vested  in  him  by  executive  orders  as  "shall  be  necessary  only  for  the 
completion  [italics  mine]  and  administration  of  those  resettlement 
projects,  rural  rehabilitation  projects  for  resettlement  purposes,  and 
land  development  and  land  utilization  projects."  "  At  last  Congress 

"Ibid.,  pp.  6582,  6762,  6853,  7133-7144.  w  Ibid.,  p.  7135, 


America  Resettled  185 

had  spoken,  and  clearly.  It  had  repudiated  any  further  experimenta- 
tion in  community  building. 

On  September  1,  1937,  Henry  A.  Wallace,  following  the  recom- 
mendations of  the  committee  on  tenancy  as  much  as  or  more  than 
the  Bankhead-Jones  Act,  established  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion to  carry  out  the  tenant-purchase  program.  The  authorized  Farm- 
ers' Home  Corporation  was  established,  as  Congress  had  provided, 
but  became  only  a  legal  fiction.  The  Farm  Security  Administration 
absorbed  the  Resettlement  Administration  or,  in  actuality,  was  the 
Resettlement  Administration  under  a  new  name,  for  the  personnel 
remained  unchanged.  At  the  same  time  the  Land  Utilization  Division 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration  was  returned  to  its  old  home,  the 
Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics.  The  Farm  Security  Administration 
continued  the  resettlement  communities  without  any  major  changes 
in  policy.  By  this  time  the  communities  were  a  minor  part  of  the  farm 
security  program,  but  an  ever  more  embarrassing  part  because  of  their 
increasing  unpopularity  in  Congress. 

By  June,  1937,  the  Resettlement  Administration  had  completed  the 
construction  of  only  thirty-eight  communities,  while  eighty-four 
projects,  including  communities  and  scattered  farms,  were  under 
construction.  Only  4,441  families  were  in  residence.100  As  mentioned 
before,  the  Farm  Security  Administration  completed  all  this  construc- 
tion. In  doing  this  it  often  added  more  land  to  projects.  Although  the 
community  program  was  already  in  an  eclipse,  heading  toward  com- 
pletion rather  than  expansion,  the  all-important  task  of  managing 
the  completed  communities  had  only  well  begun.  The  tremendous 
task  of  disposing  of  the  completed  communities,  of  "getting  the  gov- 
ernment out  of  the  real  estate  business,"  was  still  far  in  the  future. 
But  Tugwell's  Resettlement  Administration,  born  in  a  burst  of  idealism 
and  enthusiasm,  was  no  more.  America  remained  largely  unchanged, 
but  not  quite. 

100  Department  of  Agriculture,  Resettlement  Administration,  Report  of  the  Ad- 
ministrator of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  1937  (The  second  annual  report 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration;  Washingon,  1937),  pp.  14-15. 


VIII 


The  Community  as  a  Locale 
for  a  New  Society 


WHEN  a  simple  farmer,  wide-eyed  with  wonder  and  expectancy, 
or  a  hardened,  cynical,  suspicious  coal  miner,  so  inured  to  hardship 
and  struggle  as  to  expect  only  more  of  the  same,  moved  into  a  glit- 
tering new  subsistence  homesteads  or  resettlement  community,  he  was 
entering  a  social  show  window.  Willingly  or  unwillingly,  knowingly 
or  unknowingly,  he  was  a  human  mannequin  in  a  great  exhibit,  for 
the  many  architects  of  the  New  Deal  communities,  despite  varying 
philosophies,  were  all  striving  to  create,  within  the  conducive  environ- 
ment of  their  planned  villages,  a  new  society,  with  altered  values  and 
new  institutions.  The  new  society  would,  of  course,  be  a  "better"  so- 
ciety, with  "better"  necessarily  defined  by  the  architects  themselves. 
The  communities,  always  on  exhibit,  were  to  demonstrate  and  adver- 
tise the  new  society  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  Planned  by  social  scientists, 
financed  by  the  vast  resources  of  the  government,  they  were  to  be 
visual  signposts  pointing  to  the  future.  But  a  community  is  made  up 
of  people,  and  people  are  not  so  easily  molded  to  a  new  pattern.  The 
social  planners  realized  this  and  devoted  much  time  and  effort  to 
turning  a  physical  reality,  land  and  streets  and  houses,  into  a  true 
community,  with  an  enlightened  and  co-operative  people. 

The  community  building  actually  began  before  the  modern  home- 
steaders moved  into  their  new  homes,  for  the  decisive  element  in  the 

186 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  187 

success  of  the  new  community  was  the  people  selected  as  settlers.  In 
order  to  screen  the  large  number  of  applicants  for  homesteads,  the 
Resettlement  Administration  set  up  a  much  more  elaborate  selection 
organization  than  had  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  In  the 
area  near  each  project  or  group  of  projects  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration sent  a  regional  chief  of  family  selection,  who  was  as- 
sisted by  senior  and  junior  family-selection  specialists,  all  trained  and 
experienced  social  workers.  Utilizing  field  invesitgators  and  the  best 
casework  procedure,  the  social  worker  thoroughly  investigated  each 
applicant.  References  were  required;  the  applicants  were  visited  by 
social  workers,  and  questionnaires  covering  every  aspect  of  the  ap- 
plicant's life  were  carefully  filled  out.  Before  final  selection  the  appli- 
cant often  had  to  undergo  a  physical  examination.  This  thorough 
investigation  provoked  criticism,  for  some  people  alleged  that  the 
Resettlement  Administration  was  violating  civil  rights  in  so  intimately 
exploring  the  private  affairs  of  its  clients.  Among  the  varying  criteria 
used  for  selection  were  age,  health,  economic  stability,  character, 
and  number  of  children  in  the  family.1 

One  selection  criterion  was,  of  course,  that  the  family  selected  be 
from  a  low-income  group.  For  the  suburban  projects  the  Resettlement 
Administration  tried  to  maintain  an  upper  salary  limit  of  $1,600. 
The  rural  clients,  almost  always  from  an  even  lower  economic  level, 
were  either  refugees  from  land-retirement  projects,  deserving  tenant 
farmers,  successful  rehabilitation  clients,  or  young  people  desiring  to 
enter  farming.  Since  the  rigid  screening  system  seemed  likely  to  insure 
an  industrious  and  intelligent  group  of  homesteaders,  many  people 
claimed  that  the  communities  could  prove  very  little  about  a  better 
way  of  life,  for  the  clients  were  of  such  caliber  that  they  would  be 
successful  in  an  environment  that  gave  them  any  opportunities  at 
all.  Actually  the  Resettlement  Administration  clients  were  not  as  ex- 
ceptional as  the  screening  process  would  indicate.  Even  though  the 
most  obvious  undesirables  were  excluded,  many  homesteaders  lacked 
industry  and  some  contentious  ones  gave  the  Resettlement  Administra- 

1  John  B.  Holt,  An  Analysis  of  Methods  and  Criteria  Used  in  Selecting  Families 
for  Colonization  Projects  (Social  Research  Report  no.  1  of  the  United  States  De- 
partment of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  Bureau  of  Agri- 
cultural Economics;  Washington,  1937),  pp.  44-50;  Paul  W.  Wager,  One  Foot 
on  the  Soil:  A  Study  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  Alabama  (Bureau  of  Public 
Administration  at  the  University  of  Alabama,  1945),  p.  40. 


188  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion  nothing  but  trouble.  A  survey  of  resettlement  communities  dis- 
closed an  average  family  of  5.2  people,  with  the  average  husband 
aged  37.3  and  the  wife  33.3.  The  average  educational  attainment  of 
the  husband  was  7.2  grades,  of  the  wife  8.1  grades.2 

When  a  resettlement  client  moved  into  a  new  community,  some- 
times from  a  share  cropper's  hut  or  a  tenement  house  in  a  slum  dis- 
trict, he  was  moving  into  a  new  world,  with  a  standard  of  living 
heretofore  hardly  dreamed  of  by  anyone  in  his  economic  status.  His 
new  home  had  often  cost  as  high  as  $5,000  or  $6,000;  his  farm  or 
subsistence  plot  and  the  outbuildings  had  cost  up  to  $4,000  more.  If 
he  were  in  a  suburban  community  or  greenbelt  city  the  streets,  sew- 
age disposal  plants,  water  systems,  and  community  facilities  had  cost 
equally  as  much.  Even  granting  that  all  those  facilities  were  turned 
over  to  the  homesteader  without  any  cost  or  any  obligation  for  re- 
payment— and  they  were  not — the  settler  was  still  left  in  a  situation 
that  required  a  larger  income  than  in  the  past.  Taxes  were  higher; 
maintenance  was  increased;  an  electric  bill,  perhaps  a  phone  bill, 
and  probably  a  larger  heating  bill  were  added  to  his  expenses.  This 
new  standard  of  living,  beyond  the  fact  that  it  required  tremendous 
social  adjustments  on  the  part  of  many  homesteaders,  raised  the  prob- 
lem of  possible  economic  failure.  Was  there  any  reason  to  hope  that 
a  group  of  Alabama  Negro  tenants,  suddenly  placed  in  new  homes  at 
Gee's  Bend  community,  would  be  able  to  enjoy  their  new  status  by 
farming  their  same  old  cotton  farms?  What  magic  ingredient  could 
be  added  to  a  small  group  of  family-sized  farms  and  immediately 
double  or  even  triple  their  earning  power?  Whatever  the  magic  was, 
it  had  to  be  supplied  by  the  Resettlement  Administration. 

The  problem  of  economic  opportunities  plagued  the  whole  New 
Deal  community  program.  As  mentioned  before,  the  stranded  com- 
munities were  planned  without  a  sufficient  economic  base  and  suf- 
fered thereafter  because  of  this  lack.  The  suburban  communities,  and 
particularly  the  greenbelt  cities,  were  located  near  enough  to  industrial 
employment  to  eliminate  any  employment  problems,  but  the  low- 
income  families  could  not  repay  the  government  for  its  investment  in 
what  turned  out  to  be  rather  expensive  housing.  They  could,  and 

2  Calvin  B.  Baldwin,  "Farm  Security  Administration's  Sixth  Year  in  Rural  Hous- 
ing," Housing  Yearbook,  1941  (Chicago:  National  Association  of  Housing  Officials, 
1941),  pp.  262-263. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  189 

did,  afford  to  live  in  and  maintain  their  new  communities.  The  in- 
dustrial-type subsistence  homesteads,  located  between  industry  and 
agriculture,  were  ideally  situated  for  economical  living,  but  not  unless 
the  subsistence  plots  were  intensively  utilized.  This  placed  on  the 
Resettlement  Administration  the  task  of  educating  the  homesteaders 
in  gardening  and  home  production.  The  all-rural  communities,  planned 
for  full-time  agriculture,  were  really  testing  grounds  for  American 
small-farm  agriculture.  They  were  to  indicate,  in  many  cases,  that 
either  the  standard  of  living  set  by  the  Resettlement  Administration 
was  higher  than  a  family-based  agriculture  could  support  in  the  years 
from  1936  to  1941  or  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  in  the  planning  and  supervision  of 
projects,  caused  economic  failure,  for  most  of  the  rural  projects  did 
not  provide  a  net  profit  during  these  years,  let  alone  permit  any  re- 
payment to  the  government. 

The  magic  ingredients  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  pro- 
posed to  add  to  the  rural  and  semirural  communities  were  two:  co- 
operation and  expert  supervision.  It  was  felt  that  a  group  of  small 
farmers,  or  even  a  group  of  subsistence  farmers,  could  reap  the  eco- 
nomic benefits  of  a  large,  highly  efficient  commercial  farm  by  more 
socialization  or  by  co-operation.  For  example,  heavy  machinery,  ut- 
terly impractical  for  one  small  farmer,  could  be  owned  by  the  farm- 
ers of  a  whole  community.  Procurement  of  supplies,  processing  of 
products,  and  marketing  could  be  done  co-operatively  and,  therefore, 
with  all  the  efficiency  of  a  large  commercial  farm.  The  vast  efforts  in 
co-operative  endeavors  will  be  considered  in  later  paragraphs. 

The  Resettlement  Administration's  whole  rehabilitation  and  rural 
resettlement  program  was  keyed  to  the  extensive  supervision  of  its 
clients.  For  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities  this  meant  home 
economists  to  teach  canning  and  food  processing  and  agricultural  ad- 
visers to  teach  gardening  and  small,  subsistence  farming.  On  the  all- 
rural  projects  it  meant  that  farm  and  home  experts  were  responsible 
for  the  whole  economy  of  the  project.  Working  from  the  Economic 
Development  Section  of  the  Management  Division,  at  least  one  home 
economist  was  placed  in  each  major  community.3  A  farm  management 
expert  was  present  in  every  rural  or  semirural  community.  Each 

3Rena  B.  Maycock,  "Home  Economic  Work  in  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion," Journal  of  Home  Economics,  XXVIII  (1936),  560-561. 


190  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

family  on  a  rural  project  was  required  to  work  out  complete  farm  and 
home  plans  for  each  crop  year  and  to  keep  itemized  records.  Under 
the  guidance  of  experts,  the  farmers  planned  for  the  home  produc- 
tion of  foods,  for  diversified  crop  and  livestock  programs  for  market 
production,  and  for  practices  promoting  soil  fertility.  These  plans  were 
detailed,  often  including  itemized  budgets  of  all  expenditures  for  the 
year.  Beginning  in  1937  the  homesteaders  in  rural  communities  were 
allowed  to  receive  government  loans  for  their  yearly  needs.4  In  the 
South  this  put  the  Resettlement  Administration  in  the  position  of  the 
landlords  and  furnishing  merchants  of  the  past.  Since  the  crops  were 
a  lien  on  the  loan,  the  loan  itself  became  an  instrument  for  rigidly 
enforcing  the  home  and  farm  plans  prepared  by  the  supervisory  per- 
sonnel. On  some  projects  the  project  manager  or  farm  adviser  had 
joint  bank  accounts  with  the  individual  homesteaders,  which  meant 
that  the  penniless  homesteader,  dependent  upon  the  government  loan 
which  had  been  placed  in  the  bank  for  him,  could  not  spend  a 
penny  without  his  supervisor's  approval  and  signature.  This  close 
supervision  led  to  the  criticism  that  the  Resettlement  Administration 
or  Farm  Security  Administration  was  destroying  all  initiative  through 
paternalism.  The  Resettlement  Administration  early  defended  super- 
vision as  a  means  of  increasing  initiative  through  economic  inde- 
pendence and  of  educating  the  less  capable  farmers.5 

The  task  of  a  farm  adviser  was  not  an  easy  one.  Although  an  ex- 
pert, he  was  not  able  to  work  miracles,  such  as  bringing  rains  when 
they  were  needed  or  raising  farm  prices  to  the  level  of  1919.  Perhaps 
his  problems  are  best  revealed  in  the  following  unguarded  reflections 
of  a  Resettlement  Administration  official  who  was  attempting  to  de- 
vise farm  plans  for  a  new  project  in  Michigan,  but  who  was  very 
fearful  that  a  practical  farm  program  would  never  repay  the  high 
building  costs  of  the  community: 

Many  times  have  I  completed  this  vicious  circle  the  past  year.  Although  it 
is  possible  to  prove  most  anything  by  figures  my  conscience  is  not  so  heavily 
seared  but  what  I  can  see  lurking  behind  the  trees  in  these  plans  the  gri- 
macing outlines  of  old  man  weather,  the  always  questionable  management 

4  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  of  the 
Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1940  (Washington,  1940),  pp.  4^5;  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, "Management  News,"  Feb.  15,  1937,  mimeographed,  R.G.  96,  Na- 
tional Archives. 

5  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report  (Washington,  1936),  p.  38. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  191 

efficiency  of  some  of  our  clients,  the  minimum  standards  of  living,  the  haz- 
ard in  harnessing  the  human  factor  in  a  harmonious  life  on  some  of  the 
socialized  or  semi-socialized  plans  for  our  project.  Less  foreboding  than  the 
above  I  see  future  goblins  waiting  for  their  opportunity  to  save  mankind 
with  their  Utopias.  In  this  group  are  the  sociologists  with  the  guinea  pig 
complexes,  the  town  planners  and  the  engineers  with  an  earnest  desire  to 
build  their  monuments  before  death  and  the  architects  and  landscape  archi- 
tects with  their  esthetic  tastes  so  necessary  to  their  profession.  Old  man  red 
tape  and  old  lady  bureaucracy  are  flirting  in  the  shadows  but  seem  little 
disturbed  about  our  present  plan  or  my  dream.  They  realize  they  will  exact 
their  pound  of  flesh  on  any  plan  we  present.6 

Several  communities  were  provided  with  special  educational  facili- 
ties. In  almost  every  community  some  educational  activities  were 
sponsored  by  the  managing  agencies.  On  the  adult  level  the  work 
of  the  home  and  farm  supervisors,  of  co-operative  specialists,  of  local 
extension  and  vocational  agriculture  teachers,  and  of  specialists  in 
handicrafts  and  skills  represented  forms  of  education.  For  the  children, 
most  isolated  or  large  communities  included  project  schools.  Begin- 
ning under  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  a  special  experi- 
ment in  vocational  and  progressive  education  was  carried  out  at 
Arthurdale  in  specially  constructed  school  buildings  and  under  the 
sponsorship  of  several  of  America's  leading  educators,  including  John 
Dewey.  The  educational  facilities  at  Arthurdale,  for  both  adults  and 
children,  formed  the  center  of  the  community  activities.  The  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  the  Resettlement  Administration,  in 
the  rural  and  subsistence  homesteads  projects,  erected  thirty-two  com- 
bination school  and  community  buildings,  nine  school  buildings,  and 
twelve  teachers'  homes.7  Each  of  the  greenbelt  cities  had  combination 
schools  and  community  buildings.  Although,  with  the  exception  of  a 
short  period  at  Arthurdale,  these  schools  were  public  and  operated 
by  local  governments,  the  Resettlement  Administration  exerted  an 
influence  on  their  operation,  not  only  by  owning  the  building  but  in 
helping  to  select  teachers.  In  at  least  one  community  a  part-time  Re- 
settlement Administration  employee  was  also  principal  of  the  com- 
bined project  and  county  school. 

6  Merton  L.  Wright  to  A.  C.  Lytle,  Dec.  24,  1936,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

7  F.  C.  Howe  to  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  May  17,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
U.S.   Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm   Security  Administration,   Report  of  the 
Administrator  of  FSA,  1938  (Washington,  1938),  p.  17. 


192  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

A  new  society  requires  a  new  education.  In  the  thirties  the  new 
type  of  education  was  progressive  education,  which  seemed  ideally 
suited  for  the  transition  from  a  competitive  to  a  co-operative  society. 
Dr.  Morris  R.  Mitchell,  a  former  member  of  the  Advisory  Committee 
of  the  Progressive  Education  Association,  was  appointed  Chief  Edu- 
cational Specialist  of  the  Resettlement  Administration.8  The  result 
was  that  progressive  education  was  introduced  into  several  project 
schools,  usually  with  the  assistance  and  approval  of  county  school 
superintendents  or  the  state  colleges  of  education.  As  an  example  of  a 
typical  progressive  school,  the  daily  schedule  at  the  Pine  Mountain 
Valley  school  included  group  work  along  developed  lines  of  interest 
and  outdoor  activity  in  the  morning,  an  hour  of  academic  drill  after 
a  very  early  lunch,  and  then  a  discussion  of  the  day's  work  and  the 
planning  of  the  next  day's  program.  Before  disbanding  at  1:05  P.M. 
for  informal  activity,  the  children  usually  elected  to  sing  a  few  songs.9 

This  aspect  of  a  new  society,  like  several  others,  was  not  always 
well  received  by  the  homesteaders.  At  Penderlea  a  young  principal, 
just  out  of  Teachers  College,  Columbia  University,  attempted  to 
establish  as  the  "center  of  the  homestead  community,"  an  "experi- 
mental progressive  school,"  which  departed  in  "its  every  unit  from 
the  standard  school  curriculum  and  class  division."  In  the  midst  of 
a  rural  community  which  had  no  former  association  "with  this  edu- 
cational tradition,"  his  "enthusiasm  for  the  educational  ideas  in  which 
he  was  trained  appear  to  have  led  him  from  time  to  time  to  present 
his  views  more  vigorously  and  in  a  light  more  advanced  than  was 
acceptable  to  a  proportion  of  the  patrons  of  the  school."  10  Despite 
the  wishes  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  he  was  dismissed  by 
the  county.  At  Cherry  Lake  Farms  the  new  education  proved  hard 
to  inaugurate,  even  for  the  children,  but  an  enterprising  teacher 
"took  hold  of  a  query  about  the  dairy,"  which  led  her  and  her  pupils 
into  a  fascinating  "exploration  around  the  dairy."  They  also  visited 
the  construction  of  a  community  building  and  were  "having  the  time 
of  their  life,"  according  to  a  visitor.11 

In  1938  the  rural  communities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration 

8  W.  W.  Alexander  to  Erwin  H.  Sasman,  Jan.  7,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

9  Plan  of  Operation  for  Pine  Mountain  Valley  School,  1935,  ibid. 

10  Memorandum  from  George  Mitchell  to  R.  S.  Ryan,  May  3,  1938,  ibid. 

11  A  report  by  C.  B.  Loomis,  Jan.  31,  1936,  ibid. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  193 

included  fifty-eight  community  or  combined  community  and  school 
buildings.  These  community  buildings  became  a  near  must  for  any 
community.  They  were  the  locale  for  meetings  of  co-operative  asso- 
ciations, clubs,  social  groups,  parent-teacher  associations,  and  religious 
groups;  they  were  used  for  dances,  weekly  movies,  plays,  lectures, 
and  recreation.  They  indicated  the  social  planners'  desires  to  influence 
not  only  the  economic  and  educational  life  of  its  community  clients, 
but  their  social  life  as  well.  One  of  the  primary  wishes  of  many  of 
the  people  connected  with  the  communities  was  that  communities 
foster  neighborliness,  co-operation,  and  group  activity.  A  mark  of 
success  in  a  community  was  the  number  of  social  organizations,  pref- 
erably of  an  educational  variety.  One  of  the  principal  arguments 
for  communities  rather  than  individual  settlement  was  the  belief  that 
the  individualistic  American  farmers,  so  long  isolated  on  their  farm- 
steads, lacked  the  social  advantages  of  city  dwellers  or  of  European 
farmers.  The  planners  believed  that  community  activities  could  en- 
rich the  life  of  the  farmer.  The  community  buildings  were  criticized 
because  they  seemed  to  be  attempts  to  isolate  and  separate  the  com- 
munities from  the  area  in  which  they  were  located  or  because  they 
indicated  an  attempt  to  tell  people  how  to  organize  their  social  life 
when  no  expert  had  the  right  to  do  this.  In  many  communities  the 
community  building  was  either  not  wanted  or  seldom  used.  At  Austin 
Homesteads  the  homesteaders,  who  organized  their  social  life  around 
activities  in  the  nearby  town,  did  not  want  their  community  build- 
ing and,  rather  than  maintain  it,  considered  giving  it  to  the  city  of 
Austin.12 

One  of  the  most  interesting  aspects  of  the  New  Deal  communities 
was  the  fervent  attempt  to  revive  handicrafts,  such  as  weaving,  wood- 
working, and  metalwork.  In  the  early  days  of  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads,  many  people,  including  M.  L.  Wilson,  Eleanor 
Roosevelt,  and  Clarence  Pickett,  believed  that  a  revival  of  these 
handicrafts  could  provide  part  of  the  income  of  subsistence  farmers, 
could  invoke  a  community  spirit,  and  could  lead  to  a  restored  pride 
in  workmanship,  a  pride  that  seemed  so  lacking  in  assembly-line 
America.  The  impetus  to  crafts  came  from  the  work  of  the  American 
Friends  Service  Committee  in  the  coal-mining  areas.  Even  before 

12  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  eds.,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Ap- 
praisal of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942),  pp.  61,  195. 


194  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  subsistence  homesteads  program  began,  a  group  of  miners  near 
Morgantown,  West  Virginia,  had  established  a  Mountaineer  Crafts- 
men's Co-operative  Association  for  chair  manufacturing,  cabinetwork, 
weaving,  pewter  ware,  and  metalwork.13  With  the  construction  of 
Arthurdale  the  association  moved  to  a  new  factory  provided  for  it  by 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  From  an  economic  stand- 
point the  Arthurdale  venture,  which  provided  employment  for  sev- 
eral men  and  women,  was  more  successful  than  handicraft  industries 
on  other  projects. 

As  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities  were  completed,  the 
women  were  encouraged  and  instructed  in  weaving.  The  Quakers  con- 
tinued to  assist  in  the  program,  with  a  couple  accepting  a  homestead 
at  Arthurdale  for  the  express  purpose  of  teaching  weaving.  With  the 
creation  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  a  Special  Skills  Division 
was  organized  to  carry  on,  among  other  duties,  the  handicraft  pro- 
gram. Probably  for  the  first  time  in  history,  government  employees 
traveled  about  the  country  with  titles  such  as  Associate  Adviser  in 
Weaving  or  Assistant  Adviser  in  Woodworking.  Surveys  were  made 
of  stones,  clays,  sands,  and  tools.  In  Region  I,  which  included  New 
England  and  the  area  as  far  south  as  Maryland,  a  routine  survey  of 
arts  and  crafts  among  resettlement  clients  became,  under  a  regional 
enthusiast,  a  survey  by  questionnaire  of  every  artist  and  craftsman 
in  the  region.  Tugwell,  recognizing  that  this  went  far  beyond  the 
scope  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  tried  to  halt  the  survey 
but  could  not  until  several  cubic  feet  of  records  were  accumulated.14 

Under  the  handicraft  program  looms  were  set  up  in  most  com- 
munities. Since  the  program  did  not  usually  yield  appreciable  eco- 
nomic returns,  it  was  continued  largely  as  a  recreational  or  aesthetic 
program.  Although  the  Special  Skills  Division  was  disbanded  soon 
after  the  Resettlement  Administration  went  to  the  Department  of 
Agriculture,  a  limited  number  of  enthusiastic  employees  continued 
the  handicraft  program,  traveling  from  community  to  community, 
loom  to  loom.  As  late  as  1940,  in  the  "Monthly  Report  on  Weaving," 
a  fieldworker  reported  a  trip  of  project  women  to  Gatlinburg,  Ten- 

13  Clarence  E.  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread  (Boston,  1953),  pp.  32-35. 

"Grace  E.  Falke  to  George  S.  Mitchell,  Sept.  19,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives;  Grace  E.  Falke  to  Dorothy  M.  Beck,  Sept.  25,  1936,  ibid.;  Tugwell  to 
D.  M.  Beck,  n.d.,  ibid. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  195 

nessee,  to  observe  the  craft  manufacturing  there.  One  devoted 
teacher  of  weaving  had  only  two  women  come  to  her  class  on  a  cold 
winter's  day.  When  one  of  the  two  women  had  the  initiative  to  suggest 
a  name  for  the  small  group  of  two,  the  instructoress  exclaimed  in  an 
ecstasy  of  joy:  "To  hear  that  come  from  them  and  not  me  was  truly 
delightful!!"15  Of  such  enthusiasm  was  the  whole  handicraft  program 
forged.  In  1942  only  three  lone,  traveling  instructors  continued  the 
program.16 

The  Special  Skills  Division,  organized  in  August,  1935,  was  also  re- 
sponsible for  much  of  the  recreation  and  cultural  needs  of  the  com- 
munity. It  was  to  furnish  teachers  in  the  fields  of  fine  and  applied  arts 
and,  more  than  that,  was  to  produce  paintings,  sculpture,  and  other 
art  material  for  the  communities.  It  was  housed  in  a  single  unit  that 
contained  workshops  and  laboratories.  Much  of  its  time  was  required 
for  administrative  duties,  such  as  work  with  publications  and  ex- 
hibits, but  its  enthusiastic  director,  Adrian  J.  Dornbush,  was  most 
interested  in  providing  special  services  for  the  projects.  Under  his  or- 
ganization there  were  the  following  units:  landscaping,  music,  sculp- 
ture, painting,  ceramics,  dramatics,  weaving,  wood-  and  metalwork, 
research,  records,  furniture  design,  and  general  services.  Included  on 
his  staff  were  Mary  La  Follette,  daughter  of  Robert  La  Follette;  Eliza- 
beth Horflin,  interior  planning  expert  on  the  faculty  of  Columbia 
University;  Henry  La  Cognina,  an  Italian  woodworking  specialist;  and 
Otto  Wester,  a  metal  designer  who  had  sculptured  with  Norman  Bel 
Geddes.17 

Dornbush's  greatest  difficulties  were  in  securing  sufficient  money 
to  carry  out  his  program  and  in  establishing  any  clear  jurisdiction  for 
his  division.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  rural  and  folk  music  and 
wanted  to  set  up  a  special  program  to  gather  and  record  folk  music, 
but  could  not  secure  funds.  Juris  dictionary  he  was  threatened  by 
Rural  Resettlement,  which  made  furniture,  by  the  Education  and 
Training  Section,  which  was  inclined  to  teach  in  the  field  of  art,  and 
by  the  Economic  Development  Section,  which,  in  encouraging  eco- 
nomic developments,  often  included  needlework  and  handicrafts.  On 

15  Susan  R.  Christian,  "Monthly  Report  on  Weaving,"  Nov.,  1940,  ibid. 
10  Doris  M.  Porter  to  Mason  Barr,  Aug.  15,  1942,  ibid. 

"Adrian  J.  Dornbush  to  Allen  Eston,  Aug.  12,  1935,  and  Dornbush  to  Units 
and  Section  Heads,  Oct.  13,  1936,  ibid. 


196  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  other  hand,  Dornbush  balked  at  including  "the  fattening  of 
calves"  as  either  an  art  or  a  craft.18 

In  the  creation  of  the  new  society  the  Special  Skills  Division  had  a 
large  share  of  the  responsibility.  It  designed  most  of  the  "simple  and 
substantial"  furniture  and  set  up  demonstration  houses  at  each  project 
in  order  to  show  the  homesteaders  the  best  arrangements  and  to  im- 
press visitors  to  the  projects.  It  advised  the  architects  and  engineers 
on  house  designs,  decorative  sculpture,  flagpoles,  and  the  playground. 
It  planned  the  curtains,  rugs,  and  upholstery  for  the  homes.  Its  painters 
provided  murals  for  community  houses  and  recorded  in  paintings  the 
progress  of  the  different  projects.  The  following  "inspiring"  paintings 
were  made  during  the  construction  of  Greenbelt,  Maryland,  for  later 
display  in  the  completed  town:  "Pouring  Concrete,"  "Constructing 
Sewers,"  "Concrete  Mixer,"  and  "Shovel  at  Work."  19  Mary  La  Follette 
directed  a  dramatic  program,  scouring  the  country  in  order  to  collect 
a  library  of  rural  plays.  A  playwright,  Margaret  Valiant,  wrote  a  play, 
"New  Wine,"  which  was  first  produced  in  resettlement  communities 
and  which,  while  receiving  many  favorable  comments,  was  described 
as  "good  propaganda"  for  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Yet  much 
of  the  program  had  to  be  carried  out  with  the  assistance  of  other 
agencies.  Since  the  Works  Progress  Administration  directed  the  large 
Federal  Arts  Project,  Henry  A.  Wallace  personally  asked  Hopkins 
for  the  use  of  Works  Progress  Administration  artists  for  decorating 
the  Resettlement  Administration's  public  and  community  buildings. 
Dornbush  had  a  written  agreement  from  the  Works  Progress  Adminis- 
tration Recreational  Division  to  provide  personnel  to  resettlement 
communities  whenever  possible.  The  Federal  Theatre  and  Music 
Division  also  agreed  to  co-operate  with  the  Resettlement  Adminis- 
tration. The  Civilian  Conservation  Corps  constructed  looms  and 
benches.20 

In  the  attempt  to  create  a  new  society,  each  of  the  sponsoring 
agencies  devoted  special  attention  to  health  and  medicine.  But  since 
the  new  society  was  to  be  based  on  the  community  rather  than  the 

18  Dornbush  to  Grace  E.  Falke,  Nov.  27,  1935,  and  Dornbush  to  E.  E.  Agger, 
Oct.  17,  1935,  ibid. 

19  Dornbush  to  John  Lansill,  Feb.  9,  1937,  ibid. 

^William  P.  Farnsworth  to  Dorthea  T.  Lynch,  Sept.  22,  1936,  ibid.;  Wallace 
to  Hopkins,  April  6,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives;  Dornbush  to  Major  John  O. 
Walker,  June  23,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  197 

individual,  there  had  to  be  significant  alterations  in  medical  prac- 
tices. Dr.  William  E.  Zeuch,  Co-operative  Specialist  in  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  suggested  the  establishment  of  co-opera- 
tive infirmaries  on  large  projects  as  the  first  step  toward  socialized 
medicine.21  At  Arthurdale  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
paid  the  wages  of  a  community  nurse,  and  the  American  Friends 
Service  Committee  supported  a  project  physician.  At  Dyess  Colony, 
Arkansas,  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  constructed 
a  full-sized  hospital  which  was  operated  by  a  co-operative  associa- 
tion. 

On  the  establishment  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  a  Public 
Health  Section  was  created,  with  a  medical  officer  borrowed  from  the 
United  States  Public  Health  Service  at  its  head.  It  immediately  cor- 
related the  construction  program  with  state  and  local  health  ordi- 
nances and  tried  to  insure  sanitary  sewage  disposal,  safe  drinking 
water,  and  decent  housing.  On  approval  from  the  legal  section,  it  at- 
tempted to  place  in  each  community  project  a  public  health  nurse 
who,  if  possible,  worked  with  the  county  health  departments.  It  also 
recommended  that  small  health  centers,  with  offices  for  physicians 
and  nurses,  be  included  in  plans  for  all  future  projects.  In  completed 
projects  existing  buildings  or  homes  were  used  for  medical  clinics. 
The  Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion constructed  fourteen  health  centers  in  their  communities.22 

The  main  problem  faced  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  medi- 
cal personnel  was  how  to  provide  adequate  medical  and  dental  care 
for  fees  that  its  low-income  clients  could  afford  to  pay.  This  was  a 
problem  not  only  in  the  projects  but  for  the  whole  rehabilitation  pro- 
gram. Obviously  health  was  an  important  element  both  in  rehabilita- 
tion and  in  the  ability  of  a  client  to  repay  his  loan.  A  plan  emerged 
in  1936.  Co-operative  medical  associations  were  set  up  both  in  projects 
and  in  rural  counties  all  over  the  country,  always  with  the  approval 
of  local  and  state  medical  societies.  The  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion acted  as  an  intermediary,  drawing  up  a  set  of  memoranda  with 
state  medical  societies  and  lending  money  to  the  locally  organized 
co-operatives.  This  was  the  first  time  the  government  had  supported 

21  William  E.  Zeuch  to  Leroy  Peterson,  Aug.  2,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

22  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report,  pp.  93-94;  Farm  Security 
Administration,  Annual  Report  of  the  Administrator  of  FSA,  1938,  p.  17. 


198  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

group  medicine.  Under  the  typical  plan,  the  homesteader  or  rehabili- 
tation client  paid  a  monthly  fee  of  approximately  two  dollars  into  a 
group  fund.  For  this  payment  he  received  all  his  medical  services.  In 
a  few  cases  similar  dental  associations  were  formed.  Where  the  as- 
sociation included  the  rehabilitation  clients  for  a  whole  county,  any 
co-operating  physician  could  be  utilized  by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration client.  The  physicians  were  permitted  to  set  their  own 
fees  without  any  type  of  interference  from  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration. In  the  communities,  where  there  were  usually  clinics 
and  either  part-time  or  full-time  physicians,  the  members  of  the 
community  medical  association  had  to  pay  slightly  higher  fees  and 
received  better  service.  They  could  attend  regular  clinics  or,  in  emer- 
gencies, call  their  doctor  to  their  homes.  Since  the  project  physician 
was  paid  a  set  salary,  the  community  association  could  assess  set 
fees,  whereas  county  associations  often  had  to  raise  their  fees  because 
of  deficiencies  in  funds.  By  1941  over  100,000  families  were  included 
in  the  Farm  Security  Administration  medical  program.23 

The  group  medical  program  was  considered  a  success  in  most  in- 
stances. There  were  reported  cases  of  abuse  by  both  doctors  and 
patients,  and  a  minority  of  county  associations  were  disbanded  after 
a  year  or  two  of  operation,  but  as  a  whole  the  program  expanded 
each  year.  The  Resettlement  Administration  was  backed  in  its  experi- 
ments in  this  new  field  by  the  Rosenwald  Foundation  and  the 
Twentieth  Century  Fund.24  The  most  surprising  thing  was  the  way 
that  the  Resettlement  Administration  was  able  to  win  the  sup- 
port of  rural  doctors  and  local  medical  societies,  despite  years  of 
propaganda  by  the  American  Medical  Association  against  the  dan- 
gers of  socialized  medicine.  One  reason  for  the  local  support  was  the 
plight  of  rural  doctors,  who,  by  this  plan,  were  better  assured  of 
collecting  their  much-needed  fees.  The  opposition  came  mainly  from 
city  specialists  who  were  less  familiar  with  the  program  or  the  need 
for  it.25  Dr.  Ralph  C.  Williams,  director  of  the  medical  program,  was 

23  Richard  Hellman,  "The  Fanners  Try  Group  Medicine,"  Harper's  Magazine, 
CLXXXII  (1940-1941),  72-78;  Dr.  Ralph  C.  Williams  to  W.  W.  Alexander,  Dec. 
30,   1936,  R.G.   16,  National  Archives;   Memorandum  for  Arthur  Chew,  Oct.  9, 
1941,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

24  Samuel  Lubell  and  Walter  Everett,  "Rehearsal  for  State  Medicine,"  Saturday 
Evening  Post,  CCXI    (Dec.   17,   1938),  23,  62-65;   Resettlement  Administration, 
First  Annual  Report,  p.  94. 

25  Hellman,  "The  Farmers  Try  Group  Medicine,"  p.  77. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  199 

responsible  for  an  excellent  selling  job,  but  even  he  became  involved 
in  some  controversies.  In  North  Dakota  the  Resettlement  Adminis- 
tration tried  a  state-wide  group  plan  which  was  declared  to  have 
"extremely  dangerous  implication"  by  a  writer  in  the  Journal  of  the 
American  Medical  Association,  leading  to  a  long  correspondence  and 
controversy  between  him  and  Williams.  In  Wisconsin  the  state  legis- 
lature defeated  a  bill  to  permit  medical  co-operatives  in  the  state  by 
a  vote  of  63  to  27,  bringing  a  great  "hurrah"  from  Senator  F.  Ryan 
Duffy.  But,  despite  some  criticism,  the  editor  of  the  Journal  of  the 
American  Medical  Association  and  several  leading  physicians  en- 
dorsed the  Farm  Security  Administration  medical  program  in  1943.26 

Potentially,  one  of  the  most  cohesive  influences  in  a  community 
is  its  religious  life.  Yet  on  this  subject  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion had  to  be  scrupulously  neutral.  Rigidly  adhering  to  the  separa- 
tion of  Church  and  State,  it  left  all  religious  activities  to  the  people 
on  the  projects.  To  an  inquiring  minister,  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration officials  courteously  expressed  concern  over  the  religious 
life  of  its  clients  and  "naturally  favored  it  being  carried  on  on  com- 
munity lines  as  much  as  possible,"  but  stressed  its  inability  to  en- 
courage or  discourage  religious  activities.  Resettlement  Administration 
personnel  could  not  help  to  organize  local  religious  services,  but  could 
attend  religious  services  in  project  churches.  The  homesteaders  were 
allowed  to  hold  religious  meetings  in  the  community  buildings  and 
were  permitted  to  build  churches  on  the  projects  if  they  were  willing 
to  clear  their  building  plans  with  Resettlement  Administration 
planners.  When  the  citizens  of  Penderlea  actually  planned  a  church, 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  laid  down  rather  rigid  rules.  They 
could  proceed  at  once  if  twenty-five  families  signed  a  written  request 
for  a  lease  on  a  piece  of  land.  With  the  approval  of  a  two-year  lease, 
the  families  could  begin  construction  only  if  they  had  75  per  cent 
of  the  construction  costs  in  cash  and  had  had  their  plans  approved 
by  the  Farm  Security  Administration.27 

In  one  aspect  the  contemplated  new  society  of  the  community 
builders  had  to  remain  very  much  like  the  old  society,  despite  the 

2001in  West  to  R.  C.  Williams,  Dec.  11,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Senator  F.  Ryan  Duffy  to  W.  W.  Alexander,  July  26,  1937,  ibid.;  C.R.,  78th 
Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943,  Appendix,  pp.  1897-1898. 

27  J.  O.  Walker  to  Rev.  C.  Edwin  Brown,  Aug.  12,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives;  Memorandum  for  J.  O.  Walker,  July  26,  1937,  ibid.;  J.  O.  Walker  to 
George  S.  Mitchell,  March  3,  1938,  ibid. 


200  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

wishes  to  the  contrary.  Racial  segregation  remained.  From  the  very 
beginning  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  invited  Negroes 
to  its  council  tables.  Bruce  Melvin  headed  a  special  section  on 
Negroes,  Mexicans,  and  Indians.  Negro  technicians  were  employed. 
In  January,  1934,  Eleanor  Roosevelt  invited  a  group  of  Negro  leaders 
to  the  White  House  to  discuss  the  problem  of  segregation  in  the 
subsistence  homesteads  program,  enlisting  their  support  and  creating 
a  better  understanding  of  the  problems.28  In  March,  1935,  a  confer- 
ence in  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  led  to  the  decision 
that  Negroes  should  participate  equally  with  whites,  with  at  least  10 
per  cent  of  the  homesteaders  being  Negroes.  But  it  also  decided  that, 
although  no  homestead  in  the  project  book  should  limit  homesteaders 
as  to  race,  homesteaders  would,  in  practice,  have  to  be  selected  "ac- 
cording to  the  sociological  pattern  of  the  community,  at  all  times 
interpreting  the  facts  as  liberally  as  feasible,  keeping  in  mind  the 
success  of  the  project."  29  In  actuality  this  meant  segregated  projects, 
with  some  agitation  from  Negroes.  Funds  allotted  for  Indian  projects 
were  turned  over  to  a  special  agency  created  within  the  Department 
of  the  Interior. 

Although  the  Department  of  the  Interior  and  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  yielded  to  popular  opinion  on  the  segregation 
issue,  they  did  make  real  efforts  to  construct  several  all-Negro 
projects.  Thirty  Negro  communities  were  considered,  plans  were 
drawn  for  fifteen,  and  applications  by  sponsors  were  received  for 
four.  Yet,  in  1935,  out  of  thirty-one  projects  under  construction,  not 
one  was  for  Negroes.  On  the  basis  of  population  there  should  have 
been  at  least  three  Negro  communities;  on  the  basis  of  housing  need 
and  agricultural  background,  many  more.  As  a  result  of  this  record 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  announced  that  no  more 
white  homesteads  would  be  constructed  until  the  Negroes  shared 
equally.30  This  commitment  led  to  the  initiation  of  the  Newport 
News  or  Aberdeen  Gardens  project  just  as  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration absorbed  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  When 

28  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread,  p.  49. 

29  Memorandum,  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  March  20,  1935,  R.G.  96, 
National  Archives. 

30  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  "Colored  Projects,"  n.d.,  ibid.;  Memo- 
randum, Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  March  20,  1935,  ibid. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  201 

opened  on  November  28,  1936,  Aberdeen  Gardens  was  the  first  com- 
pleted Negro  community  of  the  New  Deal.  Aided  by  Hampton  In- 
stitute, it  was  constructed  by  Negro  technicians  and  laborers.  To 
avoid  racial  clashes  a  greenbelt  of  farm  land  was  provided.31 

The  early  failure  to  provide  Negro  projects  was  summed  up  by 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  as  follows:  "The  fact  remains 
that  numerous  protests  on  the  part  of  white  citizens  against  colored 
project  locations  have  been  one  of  the  major  contributing  causes  of 
failure/'  32  When  Ralph  Borsodi  was  planning  a  Negro  project  near 
Dayton,  1,100  citizens  from  three  townships  petitioned  him  and  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  not  to  construct  such  a  project, 
since  it  would  allegedly  mean  Negroes  in  white  schools,  Negro  chil- 
dren playing  with  white  children,  and  a  depreciation  of  property 
values.33  When  a  Negro  project  was  planned  for  Indianapolis,  Repre- 
sentative Louis  Ludlow,  the  congressman  from  the  area,  received 
numerous  complaints  and  made  a  protest  against  the  proposed  project 
to  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  Definite  obstructionism 
in  Indianapolis  prevented  the  acquisition  of  any  suitable  site.  Even 
the  Newport  News  project  was  completed  in  spite  of  violent  pro- 
tests by  local  citizens  and  by  Representative  Schuyler  O.  Bland  of 
Virginia.34 

The  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  projects  included 
some  communities  that  were  developed  for  Negroes  and  one  com- 
munity, Roanoke  Farms,  which  was  planned  for  both  whites  and 
Negroes.  The  Resettlement  Administration,  although  never  breaking 
with  local  patterns  of  segregation,  was  abundantly  fair  in  its  alloca- 
tion of  rural  projects.  Negroes,  particularly  in  the  South,  shared 
equally  in  both  rehabilitation  and  resettlement  programs.  Several 
communities  and  scattered  farms  projects  were  for  Negroes.  At  least 
one  project  was  for  Indians  in  North  Carolina.  The  migrant  labor 
camps  were  particularly  designed  for  Mexicans.  Except  for  Aberdeen 

31  Resettlement  Administration,  Management  News,  Feb.  15,  1937,  ibid. 
83  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  "Colored  Projects,"  n.d.,  ibid. 

33  Citizens  of  Harrison,  Jefferson,   and   Madison  Townships   to  Ralph  Borsodi 
April  2,  1934,  ibid. 

34  C.  E.  Pynchon  to  William  E.  Zeuch,  Feb.  4,  1935,  and  Joseph  H.  B.  Evans  to 
W.  W.  Alexander,  July  5,  1935,  ibid.;  S.  O.  Bland  to  W.  W.  Alexander,  Feb.  22, 
1937,  Wallace  to  S.  O.  Bland,  March  17,  1937,  and  D.  L.  Sanders  to  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  Feb.  25,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 


202  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Gardens,  the  limited  suburban  resettlement  program  did  not  include 
any  Negro  communities.  One  of  the  most  interesting  compliments 
on  the  biracial  program  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  came 
from  the  Board  of  Supervisors  of  Bolivar  County,  Mississippi,  who 
commended  the  Farm  Security  Administration  for  selecting  clients 
of  "the  White  and  Negro  races,"  for  employing  "White  and  Negro 
supervisors,"  and  for  selling  and  leasing  farms  to  "both  the  White  and 
Colored  Races."  35 

Perhaps  the  most  tragic  story  connected  with  any  project  came 
from  the  Cahaba  community  ( Trussville ) ,  near  Birmingham,  Ala- 
bama. Many  Negro  families  lived  on  the  plot  of  ground  purchased 
but  never  developed  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
Although  warned  to  evacuate  the  site,  the  Negroes,  now  admittedly 
squatters,  lived  on,  since  nothing  happened.  Then  one  morning  the 
Resettlement  Administration,  deciding  to  go  on  with  the  project,  gave 
the  Negroes  one  week  to  move  from  the  area.  As  reported,  the 
"women  folks  knowed  hardly  what  to  do  and  we  just  went  to  cryen 
and  cryen."36  They  were  forced  out  and,  perhaps  for  sanitary  rea- 
sons, their  homes  were  burned.  The  forty  displaced  Negro  families 
moved  to  forty  acres  of  worthless  land  on  Sandstone  Ridge,  where 
they  lived  in  shacks  and  shanties,  carrying  their  water  from  the 
valley,  while  white  tenants  moved  into  the  beautiful  new  homes 
constructed  on  their  old  homesites.37 

The  real  key  to  the  new  society  was  to  be  co-operation.  The 
whole  history  of  the  New  Deal  communities  could  be  related  to  the 
idea  of  co-operation,  which  was  to  replace  competition  and  extreme 
individualism.  From  M.  L.  Wilson,  who  saw  co-operation  as  the  only 
means  of  retaining  democratic  institutions,  to  Tugwell,  whose  desire 
for  a  collectivized,  co-operative  society  was  almost  a  religion,  the 
architects  of  the  New  Deal  communities  were  attempting  to  develop 
co-operation  as  the  new  institution  best  suited  for  the  modern  en- 
vironment. No  more  concerted  public  effort  was  ever  made  in  the 
United  States  to  develop  co-operatives  of  all  kinds.  Voluntary,  demo- 
cratic co-operation  was  to  be  the  alternative  to  the  economic  inse- 
curity and  chaos  of  an  individualistic,  capitalistic  past  and  to  the 

35  Resolution  of  the  Board  of  Supervisors,  Bolivar  County,  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  Na- 
tional Archives. 

30  "The  Forty  Families,"  n.d.,  R.G.  83,  National  Archives.  37  Ibid. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  203 

involuntary,  totalitarian  collectivism  of  both  fascism  and  communism. 
But  apparently  most  of  the  social  scientists  were  at  least  partially 
aware  of  the  hold  that  individualistic  institutions  had  on  the  average 
American  and  of  the  unpredictable  difficulties  involved  in  creating 
the  new,  co-operative  society. 

In  the  dark  depression  days  of  1933  several  self-help  co-operatives 
were  established  throughout  the  country  by  the  Division  of  Self-Help 
Co-operation  in  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration.  In 
November,  1933,  M.  L.  Wilson  and  Jacob  Baker,  who  headed  the 
self-help  program,  jointly  decided  that  subsistence  homesteads  would 
develop  several  talents  needed  in  self-help  and,  if  Ralph  Borsodi's 
experiences  were  a  criterion,  would  develop  co-operative  enterprises 
and  industries.  At  this  time  they  were  thinking  particularly  about 
handicrafts  and,  perhaps,  some  truck  farming.  As  the  subsistence 
homesteads  communities  were  constructed,  four  of  them,  the  stranded 
communities,  received  loans  totaling  $46,400  from  the  Division  of 
Self-Help  Co-operation  for  the  establishment  of  co-operative  activi- 
ties.38 The  same  idea  of  self-help  permeated  the  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration  community  program,  with  several  of  the  com- 
munities being  constructed  by  the  co-operative  work  of  the  home- 
steaders. The  co-operative  idea  was  further  reflected  in  the  many  co- 
operative farms.  It  reached  its  fullest  expression  in  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homestead's  plans  for  an  all  co-operative  community  at 
Jersey  Homesteads,  where  every  economic  activity  was  to  be  con- 
trolled by  co-operatives.  The  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  ac- 
quired Dr.  William  E.  Zeuch  as  a  special  adviser  on  co-operation.  He 
was  an  enthusiast,  desiring  many  fully  co-operative  communities.  He 
believed  that  the  transition  from  a  "competitive  to  a  co-operative  so- 
ciety" could  not  be  achieved  "on  a  voluntary,  democratic  basis."  Be- 
cause of  the  "hangovers  of  competitive-conditioned  behavior  patterns," 
he  believed  that  arbitrary  power  in  the  new  co-operatives  had  to  be 
voluntarily  delegated  to  experienced,  efficient,  honest,  and  wise  man- 
agers.39 

Since  most  of  the  community  management  was  left  to  the  Reset- 

38  M.  L.  Wilson  and  Joseph  Baker  to  Ickes,  Nov.  3,  1933,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives;  Charles  S.  Games,  Jr.,  to  Edward  Stone,  Oct.  3,  1935,  ibid. 

39  Dr.  William  E.  Zeuch,  "Problems  of  Co-operative  Communities,"  Co-operative 
Self  Help,  I  (May,  1934),  Mimeographed,  pp.  16-17,  ibid. 


204  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  it  was 
these  agencies  that  put  the  co-operative  idea  to  a  thousand  practical, 
or  impractical,  uses.  Tugwell  believed  that  co-operatives  could  teach 
the  fallacy  of  individualism  and  competition.  He  declared  that  co- 
operation was  the  easiest,  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.40  In  the 
earliest  days  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  he  secured  the  author- 
ity to  make  loans  to  co-operative  associations  as  part  of  the  rehabili- 
tation program.  Most  of  these  loans,  contrary  to  past  government 
lending  policies,  went  to  producers'  co-operatives,  including  many 
on  the  community  projects.  Tugwell  deplored  the  almost  entire  em- 
phasis in  the  past  on  consumers'  co-operatives,  declaring  that  if  the 
government  credit  agencies  were  "socially  minded"  producer  co- 
operatives might  arise.  Tugwell  advocated  co-operation  as  a  practical 
need  and  not  as  a  religious  crusade,  as  it  almost  had  been  under  the 
Rochdale  Movement.  He  refused  to  subscribe  to  the  dogmatic  views 
of  existing  co-operative  movements  and  rejoiced  at  being  able  to  use 
government  funds  to  break  "large  cracks  in  orthodoxy."  Only  on  one 
point  did  the  Resettlement  Administration  force  conformity  to  ortho- 
dox co-operative  theology.  It  required  that  all  its  co-operatives  in- 
clude in  their  by  laws  a  provision  that  each  member  should  have  only 
one  vote.41 

A  Co-operative  Unit  was  established  in  the  Economic  Develop- 
ment Section  of  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  unit  included 
an  executive,  several  co-operative  specialists,  and  co-operative  man- 
agers on  many  projects.  The  Economic  Development  Section  drew 
up  recommended  charters  and  bylaws,  application  forms  for  loans 
and  grants,  and  the  administrative  procedure  for  making  loans  to  co- 
operatives. As  early  as  October,  1935,  the  first  loans  were  made  to 
the  co-operative  associations  at  Arthurdale  and  Red  House  for  a 
general  store  and  agricultural  activities.  Under  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration most  of  the  early  co-operatives  established  were  for  the 
production  or  processing  of  agricultural  products,  for  consumer  serv- 
ices, or  for  medical  care,  since  a  ruling  by  the  Comptroller  General 

40  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  "Cooperation  and  Resettlement,"  Current  History,  XLV 
(Feb.,  1937),  75. 

^Robert  Straus  to  Leroy  Peterson,  Aug.  9,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Leroy  Peterson  to  Thomas  Holland,  Nov.  6,  1936,  ibid.;  Tugwell,  "Cooperation 
and  Resettlement,"  pp.  71-72,  75-76;  Resettlement  Administration,  "Guide  for 
Planning  Community  and  Co-operative  Activities,"  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  205 

in  1936  prevented  loans  for  productive  co-operatives  not  associated 
with  agriculture,  a  ruling  later  amended  for  the  stranded  communi- 
ties. As  soon  as  a  community  was  completed,  it  usually  went  through 
a  period  of  rapid  co-operative  organization,  with  an  unbelievably 
large  number  of  co-operative  activities  carried  on  at  some  projects. 
Many  co-operative  associations  carried  on  ten  or  twelve  different 
programs.  Among  the  services,  facilities,  and  activities  organized  on 
co-operative  lines  in  the  various  communities  were  the  following: 
farms,  pastures,  dairies,  wood  lots,  greenhouses,  rock  quarries,  poultry 
enterprises,  hog  breeding,  cattle  breeding,  lime  crushing,  canneries, 
barbershops,  cobble  shops,  feed  grinding,  gristmills,  handicraft  in- 
dustries, orchards,  vineyards,  factories,  tearooms,  inns,  restaurants, 
hospitals,  potato-drying  houses,  garages,  filling  stations,  medical  as- 
sociations, blacksmith  shops,  warehouses,  cane  mills,  farm  equipment, 
cotton  gins,  coal  mines,  seed  houses,  hatcheries,  sawmills,  freezing 
plants,  and  even  a  burial  association.  As  a  result  of  too  much  early 
enthusiasm  and  extravagance,  many  uneconomical  co-operatives  had 
to  be  liquidated  at  a  great  loss.  An  alarmingly  large  number  failed 
because  of  poor  management,  resentment  of  government  control,  lack 
of  understanding  of  the  co-operative  idea,  nonbusinesslike  practices, 
factionalism  in  the  associations,  and  outside  competition  or  opposition. 
The  medical  co-operatives  were  probably  the  most  successful.42 

The  Resettlement  Administration  realized  that  the  project  clients 
would  not  be  able  to  operate  successful  co-operatives  without  super- 
vision and  education.  As  a  result  it  initiated  a  program  of  co-operative 
education,  utilizing  reading  materials  and  lectures  given  by  a  field 
force  of  co-operative  specialists.  In  some  projects  adult  study  groups 
met  as  often  as  three  times  a  month  for  lectures,  group  study,  and 
forums.  In  many  colonies  youth  leagues  met  once  a  month  to  explore 
the  co-operative  field.  A  youth  conference  on  co-operation  was  held 
at  Westmoreland  for  co-operative  league  members  from  several 
projects.  Guides  to  co-operative  activity  were  mimeographed  and 
distributed  to  the  projects.  Beyond  all  this  the  co-operative  associa- 
tions were  very  closely  supervised  either  by  the  community  manager 
or,  in  the  case  of  the  largest  associations,  by  co-operative  managers 

42Leroy  Peterson  to  E.  E.  Agger,  Oct.  30,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Irving  J.  Levy  to  Walter  E.  Packard,  Oct.  26,  1936,  ibid.;  Howard  Gordon  to 
C.  B.  Baldwin,  April  3,  1941,  ibid. 


206  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

employed  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  One  of  the  things 
that  often  hurt  the  co-operatives  was  the  people's  resentment  at  not 
having  enough  voice  in  what  was  publicized  as  "their"  co-operative. 
In  defense  of  this  supervision,  it  can  be  pointed  out  that  the  co- 
operatives were  entirely  financed  by  government  loans.43 

Although  co-operation  was  desired  as  a  substitute  for  individual 
enterprise,  in  many  projects  co-operative  enterprises  became  almost 
entirely  a  matter  of  economic  necessity  rather  than  of  ideological  de- 
sirability. Since  Congress  had  forbidden  government  factories  on  com- 
munity projects  and  since  the  Comptroller  General  refused  to  allow 
the  Resettlement  Administration  to  use  government  funds  directly  to 
subsidize  private  industries  on  the  projects,  the  co-operative  associa- 
tions were  used  as  the  only  remaining  device  to  bring  employment 
to  the  economically  stranded  communities.  The  Economic  Develop- 
ment Section  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  began  making  plans 
for  co-operatively  owned  manufacturing  plants  at  the  stranded  com- 
munities in  1935.  Budgets  were  prepared,  the  work  of  the  Tennessee 
Valley  Authority  in  industrial  decentralization  was  studied,  and  mar- 
keting agreements  were  made  with  Sears,  Roebuck  and  Company. 
These  plans  had  to  be  abandoned  because  of  a  ruling  by  Comptroller 
General  McCarl  preventing  the  use  of  Resettlement  Administration 
funds  for  subsidizing  private  industry.44 

From  1935  through  1937  the  Resettlement  Administration  attempted 
to  raise  the  economic  status  of  the  stranded  communities  by  estab- 
lishing various  nonindustrial  co-operatives.  At  Cumberland  Home- 
steads, for  example,  a  tremendous  $550,000  loan  to  the  Co-operative 
Association  in  December,  1936,  was  used  to  establish  a  sorghum 
plant  and  a  cannery  and  to  operate  a  project  coal  mine,  all  of  which 
failed  because  of  inexperience,  crop  failures,  labor  union  troubles, 
lack  of  markets,  and  a  pocket  instead  of  an  expected  vein  of  coal. 
At  Tygart  Valley  a  loan  of  $400,000  in  January,  1936,  was  partly  used 
for  a  stone  quarry,  a  potato-curing  house,  the  co-operative  farm, 
warehouses,  consumer  stores,  and  a  filling  station.  At  Red  House, 
Arthurdale,  and  Westmoreland  similar  loans  were  used  for  farms, 
dairies,  canneries,  and  other  services.  Rut  none  of  these  co-operatives 

43  Leroy  Peterson  to  E.  E.  Agger,  June  29,  1936,  ibid.;  Leroy  Peterson  to  Thomas 
Holland,  Nov.  6,  1936,  ibid.;  Report  from  Region  IV,  Resettlement  Administration, 
Dec.,  1936,  ibid. 

44  E.  E.  Agger  to  R.  G.  Tugwell,  n.d.,  ibid. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  207 

erased  the  economic  problems  of  the  projects,  partly  because  of  man- 
agement failures,  but  even  more  because  they  were  limited  to  such 
a  small  economic  base.  The  consumer  co-operatives,  no  matter  how 
successful,  could  provide  employment  to  only  a  few  project  members, 
since  they  were  service  rather  than  productive  enterprises.  The  co- 
operative farms  and  related  activities,  such  as  the  canneries,  were  not 
large  enough  to  employ  more  than  a  few  of  the  settlers,  since  none 
of  the  stranded  projects  had  been  planned  with  enough  acreage  for 
commercial  agriculture.  The  great  need  remained  for  some  type  of 
industry.45 

On  June  21,  1937,  the  Resettlement  Administration,  after  clearance 
from  the  Comptroller  General,  went  ahead  with  plans  that  had  been 
frustrated  by  legal  snarls  since  1935.  On  that  date  M.  L.  Wilson, 
then  Undersecretary  of  Agriculture,  announced  several  loan  agree- 
ments with  co-operative  associations  on  stranded  projects  for  the  es- 
tablishment of  industrial  enterprises.46  These  loans,  plus  later  ones, 
were  used  to  establish  a  wood  dimension  mill  at  Tygart  Valley,  a 
tractor  assembly  plant  at  Arthurdale,  a  pants  factory  at  Westmore- 
land, and  hosiery  mills  at  Cumberland  Homesteads,  Skyline  Farms, 
Penderlea  Homesteads,  Bankhead  Farms,  and  Red  House.  A  total  of 
$4,328,000  was  lent  to  the  co-operative  associations  for  investment  in 
plants  and  in  early  operating  expenses.  In  each  case  the  co-operative 
association  worked  out  a  managerial  agreement  with  a  private  indus- 
try; the  Farm  Security  Administration,  as  the  financing  agent,  was  a 
party  to  the  agreement  and,  in  reality,  the  major  party.  At  Tygart 
Valley  the  co-operative  association  leased  its  industrial  assets  to  a 
fictitious  corporation  which,  in  turn,  entered  an  agreement  with  the 
Gamble  Sales  Dimension  Company  of  Louisville.  This  company, 
which  furnished  plant  management  and  sales  services  for  a  flat  fee 
plus  a  percentage  of  the  net  profit,  was  protected  against  any  serious 
losses,  since  all  the  investment  was  made,  indirectly,  by  the  govern- 
ment. An  almost  identical  procedure  was  followed  at  Westmoreland, 
where  the  Washington  Sales  Corporation  supplied  the  managerial 
and  sales  personnel  for  the  pants  factory.  At  Arthurdale  the  tractor 

45  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  88-91;  Select  Committee  of  the 
House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration, 
78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  p.  1756. 

48  Memorandum  for  the  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  Oct.  22,  1937,  R.G.  16,  Na- 
tional Archives. 


208  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

plant  was  managed  by  American  Co-operatives,  Incorporated,  which 
provided  managerial  services  free  of  charge.  In  September,  1938,  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  other  five  associations  entered 
a  management  agreement  with  the  Dexdale  Hosiery  Mills  of  Pennsyl- 
vania to  operate  and  manage  the  five  hosiery  mills.  The  Dexdale 
Company  received  a  share  of  the  annual  earnings  but  no  guaranteed 
fee.47 

The  co-operatives'  venture  into  private  industry  was  successful  in 
only  one  respect — it  provided,  at  least  for  a  few  years,  jobs  and  a  de- 
gree of  economic  security  to  the  occupants  of  the  projects.  But  to  the 
co-operative  associations,  to  the  government,  and  even  to  the  private 
industries  involved,  the  enterprises  were  financial  failures.  From  in- 
ception to  December  31,  1942,  the  five  hosiery  mills  had  suffered  a 
net  loss  of  $63,982.44  and,  with  one  small  exception,  had  repaid  none 
of  the  principal  invested  by  the  government.  The  mill  at  Cumberland 
Homesteads  had  shown  a  small  profit  and  had  made  a  token  repay- 
ment. The  woodworking  plant  at  Tygart  Valley  had  lost  $190,816  by 
the  beginning  of  1943  and,  by  1944,  was  being  sued  because  of  its 
inability  to  repay  its  loan.  The  pants  factory  at  Westmoreland  lost, 
through  1942,  approximately  $213,292  and,  on  October  1,  1943,  was 
leased  directly  to  the  Washington  Sales  Corporation.  After  operating 
for  only  one  year,  the  Arthurdale  tractor  assembly  plant  closed  with 
a  loss  of  $106,380.21.48  The  hosiery  mills,  operating  in  the  finest  fac- 
tories in  the  South,  were  seriously  hurt  by  the  wartime  scarcity  of 
nylon  and  the  forced  conversion  to  rayon.  An  experienced  textile  ex- 
pert investigated  the  Penderlea  factory  and  concluded:  "In  all  of  my 
experience  in  hosiery  I  have  never  seen  a  greater  waste  of  money  or 
a  mill  more  badly  managed,  and  cannot  by  the  greatest  stretch  of 
imagination  think  of  anyone  who  would  be  so  careless  in  manufac- 
turing if  they  had  to  use  their  own  money."49  By  1944  the  hosiery 
mills  were  being  readied  for  sale. 

47  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  of  the 
Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1939  (Washington,  1939),  p.  22;  House  Agricultural 
Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hearings  on  the  Agricultural 
Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1941,  76th  Cong.,  3d  Sess.,  1940,  pp.  973-977; 
Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  1749-1760. 

48  U.S.  National  Housing  Agency,  Third  Annual  Report,  January  1  to  December 
31,  1944  (Washington,  1945),  p.  214;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Adminis- 
tration, pp.  1748-1763. 

49  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1763. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  209 

The  industrial  plants  made  the  Farm  Security  Administration  even 
more  vulnerable  to  criticism  from  a  Congress  which  was  becoming 
more  and  more  hostile  to  all  the  reform  programs  of  the  New  Deal. 
To  Congress  the  co-operative  associations  were  ruses  to  enable  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  to  get  around  the  prohibition  of  gov- 
ernment factories  on  the  projects.  By  furnishing  all  the  money,  through 
the  associations,  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  defying  the 
expressed  intent  of  Congress.  More  than  that  it  was,  in  essence,  grant- 
ing subsidies  and  favors  to  selected  private  industries.  The  Farm  Se- 
curity Administration  appropriation  for  the  fiscal  year  1944  prohibited 
any  further  loans  to  co-operative  associations,  thus  impairing  the 
whole  co-operative  program  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  At 
the  time  the  prohibition  went  into  effect  (July  1,  1943),  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration  had  lent 
over  $7,000,000  to  446  co-operative  associations.  After  1943  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  continued  to  supervise  the  existing  co- 
operatives.50 

The  co-operative  associations  were  supposed  to  serve  one  other 
purpose.  While  a  project  remained  under  direct  government  man- 
agement, about  the  only  place  the  homesteaders  could  have  a  voice 
in  managing  their  own  community  was  in  "their"  co-operatives,  where 
they  were  all  assured  one  equal  vote.  Even  when  the  first  com- 
munities were  turned  over  to  the  homesteaders,  ownership  and  man- 
agement were  placed,  not  in  the  individuals,  but  in  co-operative 
homestead  associations.  In  both  cases  the  co-operative  device  was  in- 
tended to  be,  and  in  many  cases  probably  was,  an  education  in  demo- 
cratic processes  and  in  the  problems  of  group  organization.  Yet  in 
neither  case  was  there  completely  free  individual  participation.  The 
Farm  Security  Administration,  with  its  large  investment  at  stake,  was 
afraid  to  turn  the  co-operative  associations  over  to  the  inexperienced 
people  of  a  community.  Thus  their  participation  in  their  co-operatives 
was  often  a  mere  formality,  with  either  the  project  manager  or  a 
co-operative  manager  making  all  the  important  decisions.  Even  the 
homestead  associations  had  to  sign  a  managerial  agreement  with  the 

50  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1945,  pt.  n,  78th  Cong., 
2d  Sess.,  1944,  p.  989;  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Adminis- 
tration, Postwar  Developments  in  Farm  Security,  Annual  Report  of  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  for  1945-1946  (Washington,  1946),  pp.  16-17. 


210  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Farm  Security  Administration,  thus  assuring  a  continued  control  or 
supervision  of  community  activities. 

The  furthest  extension  of  the  co-operative  idea  was  in  those  projects 
where  practically  all  economic  activity  was  organized  along  co-opera- 
tive lines.  These  included  the  industrial  community  at  Hightstown  and 
the  co-operative  farm  colonies.  One  group  of  farm  colonies  included 
the  three  communities  ( Lake  Dick,  Casa  Grande,  and  Terrebonne )  so 
designed  that  co-operative  farming  was  almost  necessitated,  since  the 
farm  lands  surrounded  farm  villages  which  included  only  subsistence 
plots.  In  another  type  the  Farm  Security  Administration  leased  a  large 
plot  of  ground,  usually  for  ninety-nine  years,  to  a  group  of  families 
organized  into  a  co-operative  association.  These  associations  usually 
leased  only  a  part  of  a  community  project,  with  Scuppernong  Farms  in 
North  Carolina  including  two  such  co-operatives.  These  completely 
co-operative  farms  represented  an  expansion  of  the  same  co-operative 
ideas  that  were  applied  to  the  partly  co-operative  projects.  From  a 
practical  standpoint  it  was  believed  that  only  group  activities  and  co- 
operative devices  could  give  the  small  farmer  the  productive  efficiency 
needed  if  he  were  to  survive  the  competition  of  large  commercial 
farmers.  From  a  social  and  personal  standpoint,  they  were  to  bring 
the  joys  of  social  participation,  the  ability  to  work  together,  the  eco- 
nomic security  of  an  organized  group,  and  a  new  set  of  social  rather 
than  individual  goals  and  values.  Many  of  the  co-operative  farms  were 
planned  as  a  continuation  of  the  plantation  tradition  in  the  South. 
They  were  usually  planned  for  the  class  of  farmers  that  were  most  in- 
capable of  carrying  on  successful  individual  farming  operations. 

The  co-operative  farms  represented  an  almost  complete  break  with 
free  enterprise.  One  tenant  facetiously  remarked  that  he  owned  only 
his  chickens  and  his  children.51  From  a  standpoint  of  physical  organiza- 
tion, the  co-operative  farm  colonies  were  closely  related  to  the  com- 
munal colonies  of  America's  past.  The  Farm  Security  Administration 
sent  representatives  to  study  and  to  prepare  a  report  on  the  Amana 
colonies  in  Iowa,  one  of  the  few  remaining  examples  of  colonies  founded 
around  a  religious  ideal.  The  co-operative  farm  colonies  were  also 
very  similar  to  the  Delta  Co-operative  Farm  which  Sherwood  Eddy 
had  just  recently  established  in  Mississippi.  The  Farm  Security  Ad- 

51Oren  Stephens,  "FSA  Fights  for  Its  Life,"  Harper's  Magazine,  CLXXXVI 
(1942-1943),  482-483. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  211 

ministration  had  agreed  to  provide  some  aid  to  Delta.  Yet  the  govern- 
ment colonies,  such  as  Lake  Dick,  had  to  be  peopled  with  American 
farmers,  who  had  a  deeply  ingrained  sense  of  individualism  and  no 
cohesive  ideology.52 

The  co-operative  farms  were  economic  and,  apparently,  social  fail- 
ures. First  of  all  they  suffered  from  the  same  problems  of  many  of  the 
other  rural  projects.  All  the  fine  homes  and  facilities  on  such  a  project 
as  Lake  Dick  could  not  be  paid  for  by  the  plantation  income.  At  Lake 
Dick,  the  purest  example  of  a  collective  farm,  the  acreage  was  not  large 
enough  to  support  sixty  families.  Only  when  the  population  was  reduced 
to  thirty-five  families  did  the  farm  actually  pay  a  profit  for  one  brief 
year.  But  the  largest  problem  was  the  nature  of  the  people  involved. 
Many  of  them  were  ready  to  live  in  a  co-operative  colony  when,  in  the 
depression,  it  offered  them  the  only  security  they  could  find.  But  once 
on  the  project,  a  settler  often  disliked  depending  upon  his  less  capable 
neighbor.  His  central  goal  soon  became  a  farm  of  his  own,  where  he 
could  be  free  and  independent.  In  five  years  the  turnover  at  Lake  Dick 
was  400  per  cent.  The  co-operative  farm  there  was  disbanded  in  1942, 
and  the  plantation  rented  to  Negro  tenants  on  a  share-crop  basis.53  At 
Casa  Grande,  Arizona,  the  farm  director  resigned  in  1939,  calling  the 
project  a  Russian  co-operative.  This  same  accusation  was  widely  voiced 
and  was,  perhaps,  inevitable,  in  view  of  the  physical  similarities  be- 
tween the  Russian  collective  farms  and  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion co-operative  colonies;  but,  since  all  the  resettlement  clients  volun- 
tarily resided  on  the  co-operative  projects  and  left  at  will,  the  accusation 
was  very  unfair.  At  Casa  Grande  the  settlers  said  that  the  only  thing 
communistic  about  their  project  was  "our  dictator  and  he's  resigned."  54 

The  new  society  was  a  goal  of  the  social  and  economic  planners.  Their 
work  at  the  project  level  was  in  furtherance  of  this  goal.  But,  as  has  been 
indicated  before,  the  new  society,  as  a  reality,  was  very  difficult  to 
achieve.  Much  of  the  detailed  social  planning  had  been  untried  before 
in  this  country  and  may  have  been  rewarding  in  even  its  negative  re- 
sults. The  avowed  experimental  nature  of  the  communities  probably 

52  Carl  H.  Monseen  to  J.  O.  Walker,  Feb.  3,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
Lewis  E.  Long  to  Sam  H.  Franklin,  n.d.,  ibid. 

53  Stephens,  "FSA  Fights  for  Its  Life,"  pp.  482-483. 

""Farm  Troubles:  Co-operative  and  Ex-Director  Call  Each  Other  Communists," 
Newsweek,  XIII  (Jan.  16,  1939),  40-41. 


212  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

endangered  their  early  success.  It  is  problematical  what  the  home- 
steaders at  such  publicized  places  as  Arthurdale  must  have  felt  when 
they  read  that  their  government  had,  in  the  past,  sponsored  experi- 
mental stations  for  the  breeding  of  plants  and  animals  and  now  was 
spending  money  for  experimental  communities.  Some  of  the  com- 
munities aroused  almost  as  much  critical  curiosity  as  nudist  colonies 
or  the  early  Oneida.  This  made  the  settlers  feel  as  though  they  were 
on  exhibit  and  prevented  the  communities  from  being  accepted  into 
the  larger  community.  They  remained  islands,  visited  by  "sociological 
souvenir  hunters"  who  could  ask  the  "most  personal  and  intimate" 
questions.55 

Too  often  the  homesteaders  were  overly  idealistic  in  their  expecta- 
tions about  their  new  homes  and,  when  disappointed  at  the  reality, 
became  bitter  toward  the  government.  Almost  always  the  early  home- 
steaders were  enthusiastic,  feeling  that  they  were  modern  pioneers. 
Part  of  the  Tygard  Valley  Song  illustrates  this: 

In  nineteen  thirty-five 

We  began  to  arrive 

From  empty  mine  and  wasted  timber-line 

And  farms  that  no  longer  could  thrive 

Back  to  the  plow  and  the  land 

By  the  sweat  of  our  brow  and  our  hand, 

To  build  from  the  start 

With  faith  in  our  heart 

As  shoulder  to  shoulder  we  stand.56 

But  once  on  the  project,  things  usually  went  wrong.  Policies  were 
changed  at  Washington,  and  the  homesteaders  felt  cheated.  The  large 
expenses  in  construction  often  aroused  fears  of  such  high  purchase 
prices  that  the  homesteader  could  never  afford  them.  More  than  any- 
thing else,  the  long  delay  in  granting  purchase  contracts  led  to  dis- 
satisfaction. Always  there  was  the  ever-present  reality  of  personal 
clashes.  Some  community  managers  were  disliked.  The  same  Tygart 
Valley  homesteaders  who  sang  the  enthusiastic  song  all  went  on  a 
strike  in  1937  over  the  appointment  of  a  manager,  leading  to  a  great 

55  William  E.  Brooks,  "Arthurdale— A  New  Chance,"  Atlantic  Monthly,  CLV 
(1935),  203;  Millard  M.  Rice,  "Footnote  on  Arthurdale,"  Harpers  Magazine, 
CLXXX  (1939-1940),  418. 

66  Russell  Lord,  Wallaces  of  Iowa  ( Boston,  1947 ) ,  p.  425. 


Locale  for  a  New  Society  213 

deal  of  excitement  and  lasting  bitterness.57  At  Cumberland  Home- 
steads the  whole  community  went  on  a  rent  strike  that  lasted  for  al- 
most a  year  because  they  thought  that  the  government  was  going 
to  cheat  them  out  of  some  work  credits.  On  project  after  project  fac- 
tions arose  around  strong  leaders  or  around  favorite  community  man- 
agers. In  several  projects  dissident  homesteaders  had  to  be  evicted, 
leaving  their  remaining  friends  dissatisfied.  Yet,  by  1942,  in  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  projects  retained  by  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion, there  had  been  a  turnover  of  only  18  per  cent,  and  much  of  this 
because  of  new  employment.58  Even  though  the  new  communities 
were  not  at  all  like  heaven,  they  apparently  were  better  than  any- 
thing else  available. 

People  usually  dislike  rapid  change  and  feel  resentment  toward  any- 
one who  tries  to  reform  or  even  to  educate  them.  The  farmer  on  the 
rural  project  disliked  the  college  expert  who  told  him  how  to  farm. 
To  many  the  close  supervision  and  rigid  limitations  on  individual  in- 
itiative were  galling.  The  endless  investigations  and  inspections  were 
also  resented.  News  reporters  and  sociologists  joined  the  frequent 
inspectors  from  Washington  in  asking  about  things  that  the  home- 
steader often  considered  only  his  own  business.  When  three  different 
investigators  visited  Westmoreland  on  three  successive  days,  the  Wash- 
ington office  received  an  urgent  request  that  investigators  be  sent  to- 
gether in  groups  rather  than  one  a  day,  for  they  were  disrupting  normal 
activities.59  Even  the  work  of  the  Special  Skills  Section  in  bringing 
culture  and  recreation  was  not  always  welcomed  by  the  settlers.  Some 
special  recordings  sent  to  Penderlea  for  a  special  gathering  were  re- 
turned with  a  request  for  hillbilly  music,  which  the  homesteaders 
preferred.  At  Westmoreland  the  educational  director  suggested  that 
special-skills  people  be  sent  only  at  the  request  of  the  Education 
and  Training  Section  in  order  "that  we  do  not  burden  the  communities 
with  more  advantages  than  they  can  absorb  at  one  time."  60  Not  even 
a  small  community  can  be  built  in  a  day. 

57  M.  L.  Wilson  to  Eleanor  Roosevelt,  Aug.  25,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

58  Report  on  Subsistence  Homesteads,  1942,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

59  Agnes  King  Inglis  to  E.  E.  Agger,  Sept.  26,  1935,  ibid.  m  Ibid. 


IX 


Society  Reasserts 
Its  Claims 


THE  Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration faced  almost  insurmountable  difficulties  in  experimentally 
creating  a  new  society  within  the  bounds  of  their  new  communities, 
perhaps  largely  because  of  the  individualistic  nature  of  their  clients. 
They  faced  an  even  more  difficult  task  in  maintaining  the  major  features 
of  this  new  society  in  the  midst  of  the  old  society,  which,  with  re- 
turning prosperity,  was  regaining  much  of  its  past  popularity.  The 
attempt  to  preserve  the  distinguishing  attributes  of  the  New  Deal  com- 
munities is  bound  up  in  the  long  controversy  over  their  disposition  and 
in  the  wartime  struggle  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  to  maintain 
its  very  existence  in  the  face  of  almost  overwhelming  opposition.  In 
the  course  of  these  controversies  the  communities,  once  so  loved  and 
cherished  by  their  planners  and  creators,  became,  in  the  minds  of  many 
congressmen,  disreputable,  heretical,  and  exceedingly  wasteful  symbols 
of  misguided  idealism  or  even  of  ideological  treason. 

In  many  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  and  rural  rehabilitation  com- 
munities, the  Resettlement  Administration  inherited  definite  commit- 
ments to  eventual  homeownership.  The  Resettlement  Administration 
decided  to  honor  all  these  commitments,  but  at  the  same  time  wanted 
to  preserve  the  aims  and  objectives  of  the  communities.1  In  January, 

1  Edward  Stone  to  E.  E.  Agger,  Nov.  7,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

214 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  215 

1936,  Tugwell  secured  Roosevelt's  approval  of  a  plan  to  turn  the 
completed  subsistence  homesteads  communities  over  to  local,  co- 
operative homestead  associations  made  up  of  the  homesteaders  resid- 
ing in  the  communities.  The  association  would  hold  title  to  the  land, 
issue  purchase  or  lease  contracts  to  individual  homesteaders,  select 
future  settlers,  collect  all  payments,  maintain  the  property,  and  make 
all  tax  and  insurance  payments.  In  most  cases  the  association  would 
sell  the  individual  homesteads  by  means  of  a  long  purchase  contract, 
running  for  forty  years  at  3  per  cent  interest.  Included  in  monthly  pay- 
ments would  be  fees  for  management,  repairs  and  upkeep,  taxes,  and 
a  reserve  fund.  The  co-operative  property  would  be  surrendered  to 
co-operative  associations,  whose  membership  would  be  open  to  all 
homesteaders.  The  homestead  association,  before  accepting  title  to 
the  property,  would  have  to  sign  a  management  contract  with  the 
Resettlement  Administration,  giving  that  agency  or  its  successors  the 
right  to  supervise  the  management  of  the  community  until  it  was  com- 
pletely liquidated  at  the  end  of  forty  years.2  This  method  of  disposi- 
tion seemed  certain  to  solve  local  tax  problems,  to  give  the  home- 
steader the  satisfaction  of  working  toward  eventual  ownership,  to 
insure  community  control  over  all  land  use  for  forty  years,  and  to 
guarantee  the  continued  supervision  and  direction  of  community  life 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration. 

Before  conveying  the  communities  to  homestead  associations,  the 
Resettlement  Administration  decided  to  adopt  a  sale  policy  based  on 
the  ability  of  homesteaders  to  pay,  on  a  reasonable  appraisal  of  the  proj- 
ect, and,  only  lastly,  on  the  original  cost  to  the  government.  In  no  case 
was  the  sale  price  of  an  individual  homestead  to  exceed  25  per  cent  of 
the  client's  income,  the  appraisal  figure,  or  the  original  cost  to  the 
government.  Yet,  despite  this,  Tugwell  predicted  that  there  would  "be 
no  serious  gap  between  the  evaluation  of  the  property  for  conveyance 
and  its  cost."  3  This  proved  to  be  a  tragically  false  prediction. 

In  1936  and  1937,  thirteen  communities  (Houston,  Beauxart,  Dal- 
worthington,  Three  Rivers,  and  Wichita  Gardens  in  Texas,  El  Monte 
and  San  Fernando  Homesteads  in  California,  Longview  Homesteads 

2  Policy  Statement  signed  by  Tugwell  and  approved  by  President  Roosevelt,  Jan. 
18,  1936,  ibid.;  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  Document  no. 
213,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  pp.  23-24. 

3  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  Document  no.  213,  74th 
Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1928,  p.  23. 


216  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

in  Washington,  Decatur  Homesteads  in  Indiana,  Hattiesburg,  Magno- 
lia, and  Tupelo  Homesteads  in  Mississippi,  and  Phoenix  Homesteads  in 
Arizona)  were  transferred  to  homestead  associations.4  These  were  all 
industrial  homesteads  and  included  the  most  prosperous  and  suc- 
cessful of  all  the  New  Deal  communities.  The  individual  homesteader 
in  the  conveyed  communities  had  an  opportunity,  if  he  wished,  to  enter 
a  forty-year  purchase  contract  for  his  homestead.  If  he  later  decided 
to  move,  he  was  required  to  offer  his  homestead  to  the  association, 
which  could  repossess  it  by  paying  him  the  equivalent  of  his  accumu- 
lated equity.  This  purchase  contract  was  known  as  tenure  "A."  For 
those  not  desiring  to  purchase  a  homestead,  a  tenure  "B"  or  lease  con- 
tract was  used,  with  the  cost  of  the  monthly  lease  based  on  the  same 
considerations  as  the  sale  price.  When  a  new  homesteader  moved  into 
a  community,  the  association  usually  required  a  year's  trial  period 
under  lease  before  granting  a  purchase  contract.  If  a  purchaser  de- 
faulted on  payments,  he  could  use  his  accumulated  equity  to  pay  rent 
on  a  tenure  "B"  contract,  remaining  on  the  project  until  his  equity  was 
exhausted.5 

Since  the  conveyance  price  usually  fell  well  below  the  original  cost, 
the  transference  of  whole  communities  to  homestead  associations  in- 
vited new  accusations  of  financial  irresponsibility  on  the  part  of  the 
community  agencies.  El  Monte  and  San  Fernando  Homesteads,  alone 
among  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  sold  at  a  price  equal 
to  cost,  and  Longview  almost  broke  even.  On  the  other  hand,  Dal- 
worthington  Gardens,  which  cost  $325,712.35,  was  sold  for  $150,000, 
and  Hattiesburg  Homesteads,  which  cost  $75,648.78,  was  sold  for 
$49,720.  The  first  twelve  communities  sold  to  homestead  associations 
cost  $2,102,762.44  and  sold  for  $1,700,232,  or  for  about  81  per  cent 
of  their  cost.6  In  view  of  the  community  facilities,  such  as  roads  and 
schools,  which  are  usually  provided  by  local  governments  and  not  as 
the  direct  expense  of  the  purchaser  of  a  home,  this  record  was  satisfac- 
tory, or  even  excellent.  But  these  communities,  built  by  contract  under 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  were  by  far  the  most  in- 
expensive ones.  Even  as  they  were  transferred,  surveys  at  Arthurdale 

4  Edward  Stone  to  Earle  P.  Zack,  July  6,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

5  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  pp.  23-24. 

6  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  pp.  1118-1119. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  217 

indicated  a  probable  sale  price  of  only  21.3  per  cent  of  cost,  and  the 
probable  sale  price  of  Jersey  Homesteads,  which  cost  $3,402,382.27,  was 
estimated  at  only  $924,022,  or  27.1  per  cent  of  the  investment.  For 
twenty-six  homestead  projects  the  estimated  liquidation  price  was 
43.1  per  cent  of  cost,  meaning  a  government  subsidy  of  56.9  per  cent.7 

Only  one  project  (Bankhead  Farms  in  Alabama)  was  conveyed  to 
a  homestead  association  between  1937  and  1942,  and  one  project 
(Tupelo  Homesteads)  was  turned  over  to  the  National  Park  Service 
as  part  of  the  Natchez  Trace  Parkway.  In  1942  the  last  associations  were 
formed  at  Austin,  Duluth,  Granger,  Mount  Olive,  Palmerdale,  and 
Greenwood  Homesteads,  making  a  total  of  nineteen.  Under  congres- 
sional pressure  to  dispose  of  all  the  communities  as  quickly  as  possible, 
the  Farm  Security  Administration,  in  1942,  began  plans  for  conveying 
several  other  communities  that  had  been  retained  because  of  economic 
difficulties,  since  at  some  projects  the  monthly  income  of  homesteaders 
was  hardly  sufficient  to  pay  local  taxes.  On  these  projects  the  home- 
steaders had  continued  to  pay  monthly  rents  while  awaiting  a  chance 
to  purchase  their  homes.  Three  communities,  Cumberland,  McComb, 
and  Lake  County  Homesteads,  were  opened  for  sale  to  individual 
homesteaders,  with  the  Farm  Security  Administration  retaining  title 
until  the  fulfillment  of  the  forty-year  purchase  contracts.  The  green- 
belt  towns  and  Ironwood,  Cahaba,  and  Aberdeen  Gardens  were  all 
being  prepared  for  conveyance  to  special  leasing  associations.8 

Of  the  homestead  projects  conveyed  to  associations  only  two,  Mag- 
nolia and  Hattiesburg  in  Mississippi,  completely  defaulted  in  their  pay- 
ments. On  fifteen  other  projects  the  cumulative  delinquency  was  only 
0.9  per  cent  from  1936  to  May  1,  1940.  There  had  been  a  35.9  per  cent 
turnover,  but  mainly  among  tenure  "B"  clients.  On  the  nonconveyed 
projects  there  was  only  an  18  per  cent  turnover,  with  new  employ- 
ment constituting  the  most  important  reason.  The  temporary  licensing 
agreements  averaged  only  $16.99  a  month.  To  February  28,  1941, 
there  had  been  a  delinquency  of  only  3.9  per  cent  on  the  monthly 
rentals.9  With  a  consolidation  of  all  New  Deal  housing  agencies  in 

7  Enclosure,  H.  W.  Truesdell  to  E.  G.  Arnold,  May  28,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives. 

8  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1032;  "Disposition  of  Proj- 
ects," n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  a  memorandum  for  J.  O.  Walker,  March  16, 
1941,  ibid. 

9  "Report  on  Subsistence  Homesteads,"  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


218  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

1942,  Roosevelt,  by  an  executive  order  dated  October  1,  1942,  trans- 
ferred all  the  Farm  Security  housing  in  which  the  family  did  not  earn 
its  principal  income  from  farming  to  the  Federal  Public  Housing 
Authority  in  the  National  Housing  Agency.10  This  took  from  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  all  the  homestead  associations  and  all  the 
nonrural  colonies,  plus  several  undeveloped  subsistence  homesteads 
plots.  Transferred  to  the  new  agency  were  twenty-eight  subsistence 
homesteads  communities,  the  three  greenbelt  cities,  one  suburban 
resettlement  project,  and  two  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administra- 
tion communities.  The  Farm  Security  Administration  retained  twenty- 
six  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration  rural  communities,  three 
rural  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  and  all  the  rural  resettle- 
ment communities. 

For  the  rural  communities  Tugwell  early  decided  on  a  temporary 
policy  of  leasing,  with  purchase  details  to  be  worked  out  later.  Some 
of  the  inherited  rural  communities  were  first  leased  for  a  set  monthly 
or  yearly  cash  rent,  but  at  Woodlake  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief 
Administration  had  initiated  a  system  of  payment  in  kind.  In  1937, 
carrying  this  idea  further,  the  Resettlement  Administration  adopted 
a  "D"  type  lease  for  some  of  its  co-operative  farms.  This  lease,  which 
was  later  extended  to  most  of  the  rural  colonies,  resembled  the  tra- 
ditional share-cropping  system,  with  rentals  based  on  a  set  percentage 
of  the  crops.  In  1938  a  lease  and  purchase  contract  was  readied,  featur- 
ing a  variable  payment  plan  based  on  production  and  the  ability  of  the 
client  to  pay.  Yet,  until  1940,  the  Farm  Security  Administration  did 
not  issue  a  single  purchase  contract  in  its  rural  colonies,  arguing  that 
the  tenants  were  still  under  trial  leases  to  determine  their  qualifica- 
tions for  landownership.  In  1940,  under  congressional  pressure,  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  began  issuing  these  lease  and  purchase 
agreements  in  most  of  its  nonco-operative  type  rural  colonies.  By 
1942  approximately  2,586  units  in  either  the  rural  communities  or  the 
scattered  farms  had  been  sold  to  individuals.11 

10  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1944,  78th  Cong., 
1st  Sess.,  1943,  pp.  988-991. 

11  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  of  the 
Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1938  (Washington,  1938),  pp.  21-22;  House  Agricul- 
tural Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hearings  on  the  Agricul- 
tural Appropriation  Bill  for  1941,  76th  Cong.,  3d  Sess.,  1940,  p.  970,  and  Hearings 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  219 

The  lease  and  purchase  contract  was  really  a  promise  of  future 
sale.  The  farmer  agreed  on  a  certain  price  for  his  homestead,  with 
the  first  one-fourth  of  this  price  to  be  paid  by  a  designated  percentage 
of  the  cash  income  from  his  crops.  The  percentage  could  be  changed 
by  each  alteration  of  his  well-supervised  farm  and  home  plan.  Title 
and  all  rights  to  the  land  remained  in  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion. The  government  pledged  that,  when  the  variable  payments  be- 
yond interest,  insurance,  and  taxes  had  amounted  to  one-fourth  of  the 
purchase  price,  the  purchaser  would  be  granted  a  quitclaim  deed 
conveying  the  property  to  him,  but  with  all  the  mineral  rights  reserved 
to  the  government.  At  that  time  the  purchaser  would  execute  a  promis- 
sory note,  agreeing  to  pay  the  balance  of  the  purchase  price  within 
forty  years  at  3  per  cent  interest.  He  also  had  to  execute  a  mortgage 
as  security  for  the  indebtedness.  The  note  and  mortgage  were  to  be 
"in  such  form,  and  contain  such  conditions  and  covenants,  consistent 
with  the  provisions  of  this  contract,  as  the  Government  may  prescribe, 
including  a  provision  prohibiting  the  sale,  lease  or  other  disposition 
of  the  property  without  the  consent  of  the  Government."  12  Although 
this  contract  promised  a  deed  after  the  indefinite  period  required 
for  an  accumulation  of  the  first  25  per  cent  of  the  purchase  price,  it 
left  the  client  completely  under  Farm  Security  Administration  super- 
vision for  this  indefinite  period  and,  after  the  issuance  of  the  deed, 
under  whatever  controls  and  restrictions  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion might  insert  into  the  mortgage.13  The  client  could  not  hope  for 
complete  control  of  his  land  until  a  minimum  of  forty-one  years  from 
the  time  he  entered  the  original  agreement,  and  only  then  if  he  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  accumulate  the  first  25  per  cent  of  the  purchase 
price  in  one  year.  This  long  waiting  period  followed,  in  many  cases, 
the  five  years  or  more  that  the  client  had  already  been  on  the  project 
as  a  tenant.  Few  adult  men  could  really  look  forward  to  full  owner- 
ship within  their  lifetime.  Even  if  they  did  live  until  the  complete 
fulfillment  of  their  contract,  they  still  did  not  own  the  mineral  rights. 
This  contract  insured  Tugwell's  desire  for  a  long  relationship  between 


on  the  Agricultural  Appropriation  Bill  for  1942,  pt.  n,  77th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1941, 
pp.  112-118,  258-259. 

12  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  90,  see  also  pp.  86—90. 

13  Farm  Security  Administration  Instruction  555.5,  Oct.,  1942,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives. 


220  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  government  and  individual.  It  also  insured  the  physical  plan  of 
the  community  against  early  alteration. 

Even  as  the  Farm  Security  Administration  began  to  dispose  of 
its  rural  colonies,  its  whole  program  was  under  attack.  The  fight  over 
the  abolition  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  one  of  the  most 
bitter  domestic  issues  during  World  War  II.  It  was  a  fight  that  was 
related  to  congressional  opposition  to  the  whole  New  Deal  reform 
program.  This  particular  fight  had  been  shaping  up  ever  since  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  was  created  in  September,  1937,  presum- 
ably to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  Bankhead-Jones  Farm  Tenant 
Act.  The  Bankhead-Jones  Act  not  only  set  up  the  new  tenant-purchase 
program  but  provided  for  a  rehabilitation  program  and  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  resettlement  communities.  The  intent  of  Congress  was 
relatively  clear.  The  Farm  Security  Administration  could  continue  the 
rehabilitation  program  but  only  by  securing  an  appropriation  under 
the  Bankhead-Jones  Act.  It  could  complete  the  existing  resettlement 
communities  but  could  not  begin  new  ones.  In  fact,  the  Bankhead-Jones 
Act  did  not  grant  the  authority  to  purchase  land.  What  actually  oc- 
curred, however,  is  that  the  Resettlement  Administration  received  a 
new  name,  added  the  tenant-purchase  program  to  its  already  large 
repertory  of  activities,  and  continued  very  much  as  it  had  before  the 
Bankhead-Jones  measure.  It  continued  to  secure  its  rehabilitation  funds 
from  relief  appropriations  and  to  administer  them  according  to  ex- 
ecutive orders  rather  than  the  provisions  of  the  Bankhead-Jones  Act. 
It  not  only  completed  resettlement  communities  but  added  extra 
land  to  many  of  them.  It  was  the  Farm  Security  Administration  that 
initiated  many  of  the  experiments  in  co-operative  farming  and  all  the 
experiments  with  ninety-nine-year  leases.  The  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration was  slow  in  making  even  the  initial  steps  toward  liquidating 
the  community  projects  and,  when  it  did  so  in  1940,  affixed  such 
terms  as  would  insure  a  continued  government  interest  in  the  projects 
for  over  fifty  years. 

With  no  authority  to  purchase  land  for  additional  community  proj- 
ects, the  Farm  Security  Administration,  beginning  in  1938,  formed  land- 
leasing  and  land-purchasing  associations  to  which  it  lent  rehabilita- 
tion funds.  These  associations,  composed  of  families  who  could  not 
qualify  for  regular  community  projects,  used  their  loans  to  lease  or, 
in  four  cases,  to  purchase  large  tracts  of  land  for  subleasing  to  in- 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  221 

dividual  members.  This  group  rehabilitation  led  to  the  creation  of 
about  thirty-five  close  settlements  that  differed  from  other  New  Deal 
communities  only  insofar  as  the  Farm  Security  Administration  did 
not  actually  itself  make  any  of  the  improvements  or  construct  any 
community  facilities.  But  its  funds  were  used.  These  associations  were 
a  means  of  continuing,  in  essence,  the  land-purchase  and  community- 
building  programs  of  the  old  Resettlement  Administration.  The  Farm 
Security  Administration  officials  believed  that  the  associations  offered 
security  of  tenure,  higher  living  standards,  savings  through  co-operative 
activity,  education  in  co-operative  ideas,   simplified  Farm   Security 
Administration  supervision,  larger  bargaining  powers  with  landlords, 
and  better  rental  terms. 14  In  the  beginning  days  of  World  War  II  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  temporarily  expanded  this  land-leasing 
and  land-purchase  program  by  administering  a  relocation  program 
for  people  displaced  by  war  preparations.  To  do  this  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  formed  relocation  corporations  which  began  the  pur- 
chasing of  large  tracts  of  land  until  a  ruling  of  the  Comptroller  Gen- 
eral stopped  the  practice.  These  programs,   even  if  strictly  legal, 
seemed  to  be  against  the  spirit  and  intent  of  the  Bankhead- Jones  Act. 
Both  the  Farm  Security  Administration  program  and  its  personnel 
were  such  as  to  gain  many  enemies.  The  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion, inheritor  of  Tugwell's  distinct  class  feelings,  was  a  militant  de- 
fender of  the  small  farmer  and  laborer.  It  constantly  stressed  the  lack 
of  economic  and  social  justice  for  the  small  farmers  who  had  no  real 
stake  in  the  American  democracy,  contrasting  them  with  the  large 
farmers  who  were  becoming  more  and  more  separated  from  those  at 
the  bottom.15  At  a  time  when  industrial  labor  was  receiving  many 
gains,  the  Farm  Security  Administration  almost  became  a  labor  union 
for  small  farmers,  tenants,  and  farm  laborers.  The  leaders  in  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  were  enthusiastically  devoted  to  their  task  of 
helping  the  exploited  farm  classes.  Their  over-all  philosophy  tended 
to  be  collectivist,  with  a  distrust  of  the  ideas  of  the  capitalists  and  of 
the  kindred  ideas  of  the  middle-class  farmers.  Ideological  and  economic 

14  Senate  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1944,  78th  Cong.,    1st 
Sess.,  1943,  pp.  742-744. 

15  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  of  the 
Administrator  of  the  FSA,  1941  (Washington,  1941),  pp.  1-2;  Grant  McConnell, 
The  Decline  of  Agrarian  Democracy  (Berkeley,  1953),  pp.  89-93. 


222  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

differences  led  to  controversy  in  Congress  and  throughout  the  country. 

The  Farm  Security  Administration  aided  the  lowest  and  most  helpless 
class  of  farmers,  from  the  migrant  laborers  in  California  to  Southern 
sharecroppers.  But  the  cotton  plantations,  the  truck  farms,  and  the  large 
orchards  were  dependent  upon  these  very  same  cheap  laborers  and 
croppers  that  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  aiding  through 
rehabilitation  loans  or  resettlement  opportunities.  At  the  same  time  the 
loans  and  support  to  local  co-operatives  often  threatened  the  profits 
of  private  processors  and  retailers.  Thus  those  who  feared  competition 
or  who  were  about  to  lose  their  cheap  labor  were  naturally  opposed 
to  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  Many  commercial  farmers,  aided 
by  the  Farm  Bureau  and  by  many  extension  agents,  became  the  most 
bitter  opponents  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  The  Farm 
Security  Administration,  during  World  War  II,  controlled  the  place- 
ment of  migrant  farm  laborers  and  exacted  such  strict  conditions  on 
wages,  hours,  sanitation,  and  housing  as  to  anger  the  many  plantation 
owners  who  much  preferred  to  treat  their  laborers  as  they  had  in 
the  past.  Most  vulnerable  because  of  its  sorry  financial  record  in  many 
of  the  resettlement  projects  and  because  of  its  collective-farming  ex- 
periments, the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  accused  of  useless 
extravagance  and  of  harboring  communist  ideas.  On  the  other  side, 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  defended  by  many  of  its  clients, 
by  the  labor  unions,  and  by  the  National  Farmers'  Union.  These 
groups  pointed  accusing  fingers  at  the  "economic  royalists"  who  wished 
to  hold  the  low-income  farmers  in  a  system  of  peonage. 

The  controversy  soon  became  one  of  emotion  and  of  bitterness,  with 
some  people  believing  that  the  attack  on  the  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration was  in  the  interest  of  saving  American  freedom,  whereas 
others  believed  that  it  meant  the  beginning  of  a  return  to  slavery  or 
to  an  acceptance  of  a  form  of  "Fascism." 16  For  example,  a  Farm 
Bureau  report  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration  urged  that  the 
farm  program  for  low-income  families  be  placed  in  a  new  agency  in 
order  to  "save  the  low-income  farmer  from  political  exploitation  and 
save  American  agriculture  from  collectivism  and  Government  land- 

16  Alfred  W.  Griswold,  Farming  and  Democracy  (New  Haven,  1952),  p.  170; 
Oren  Stephens,  "FSA  Fights  for  Its  Life,"  Harpers  Magazine,  CLXXXVI  ( 1942- 
1943),  479-480;  "Pillar  of  Democracy:  The  Meaning  of  the  Fight  Against  the 
FSA,"  Commonweal,  XXXIX  (1943-1944),  225-228. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  223 

lordism,"  and  Ray  P.  Chase,  a  Minnesota  attorney  and  former  con- 
gressman, argued  that  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  using 
taxpayers'  money  "to  destroy  American  business"  while  its  leaders 
"preach  the  doctrine  of  Communism  but  lack  the  courage  to  carry  a 
card."  17  On  the  other  side,  the  legislative  representative  of  the  National 
Farmers'  Union,  Russell  Smith,  was  firmly  convinced  that  "the  Farm 
Security  idea  is  a  good  idea,  indeed,  that  it  is  an  idea  basic  to  the 
attainment  of  complete  democracy  in  this  country."  18  In  a  prepared 
report  the  Emergency  Committee  for  Food  Production  declared  that 
the  opposition  to  the  Farm  Security  Administration  arose  because  it 
"had  begun  to  wreck  the  dream  of  factory  farmers  for  a  rural  serfdom 
and  agricultural  monopoly."  Thus,  the  efforts  to  kill  the  Farm  Security 
Administration,  according  to  the  report,  "strike  at  the  heart  of  democ- 
racy itself  and  must  be  opposed  by  the  people  of  America."  19 

The  Farm  Security  Administration  first  faced  serious  congressional 
criticism  over  the  liquidation  of  the  community  projects  which,  though 
only  a  small  aspect  of  the  whole  farm  security  program,  were  always 
at  the  center  of  any  controversy,  probably  because  they  were  the  most 
embarrassing  part  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration's  activities. 
As  early  as  1938,  the  first  year  after  the  creation  of  the  Farm  Security 
Administration,  Congress  explicitly  appropriated  money  for  the  "liqui- 
dation and  management"  of  the  resettlement  projects.  But  no  appreci- 
able liquidation  occurred.  In  debates  over  another  appropriation  in 
1939,  Will  W.  Alexander,  Administrator  of  the  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration, was  called  an  "off-color  politician"  by  Representative  Edward 
E.  Cox  of  Georgia.20  Representative  Guy  L.  Moser  of  Pennsylvania 
declared  that  the  old  Resettlement  Administration  had  pounced  upon 
the  Bankhead- Jones  Act  like  a  vulture,  while  "wandering  minstrels 
and  scavengers"  continued  to  infest  farm  communities  with  "gratuitous 
advice  by  childless  women  who  never  kept  house  themselves."21  In 
1939  Congress  refused  to  allot  further  funds  for  the  completion  of 
communities  and,  in  1940,  cut  off  all  loans  to  new  co-operatives.22  By 

17  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  802,  1867. 
™lbid.,  p.  1495.  ™lbid.,  p.  1507. 

20  C.R.,  76th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1939,  p.  3456;  ibid.,  77th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1942, 
p.  4304. 

21  Ibid.,  76th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1939,  p.  3457. 

22  House  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Appropriations  for  Work  Relief,  Relief, 
and  for  Loans  and  Grants  for  Public  Works  Projects,  Fiscal  Year  1940,  Report 


224  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

1941  Representative  Harold  D.  Cooley  of  North  Carolina  was  seeking 
authority  for  a  full  congressional  investigation  of  the  Farm  Security 
Administration.23 

The  real  struggle  over  the  Farm  Security  Administration  began  in 
1942.  In  that  year  the  Farm  Bureau  officially  went  on  record  against 
the  Farm  Security  Administration,  and  the  Farm  Bureau  head,  Edward 
O'Neal,  testified  against  it  in  the  Appropriations  Committeee  hearings. 
Two  Southern  senators,  Harry  F.  Byrd  and  Kenneth  D.  McKellar,  both 
of  whom  opposed  the  extravagance  and  the  collectivist  experiments 
of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  led  the  Senate  attack.  McKellar 
bluntly  stated  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration's  Administrator: 
"I  think  Mr.  Baldwin  is  a  Communist." 24  Byrd,  who  used  lengthy 
statistics  to  prove  the  extravagance  of  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion, attacked  its  paternalism,  its  defiance  of  Congress,  and  its  failure 
to  liquidate  the  communities.  He  believed  the  homestead  associations 
were  ruses  to  conceal  continued  governmental  control.25  In  the  House, 
Representative  Malcolm  C.  Tarver  of  Georgia,  chairman  of  the  House 
Committee  on  Agriculture,  belabored  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion for  its  collective  farms  and  stated  that  further  retention  of  the 
community  projects  would  place  the  Farm  Security  Administration  in 
open  defiance  of  Congress.26  As  a  result  of  this  attack,  Congress  forbade 
further  expenditures  for  collective  farms,  land  purchase,  and  migratory 
camps  and  requested  a  rapid  liquidation  of  all  remaining  communities.27 

In  the  early  part  of  1943  Representative  Cooley  finally  secured  the 
passage  of  a  resolution  calling  for  a  complete  investigation  of  the  Farm 
Security  Administration.  He  justified  the  investigation  on  the  basis  that 
the  original  Resettlement  Administration  was  created  with  the  broadest 
power  ever  conferred  upon  a  United  States  Government  agency,  that 


no.  833,  76th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1939,  p.  16;  U.S.  House  of  Representatives,  Activi- 
ties of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  Report  no.  1430,  78th  Cong.,  2d  Sess., 
1944,  p.  50. 

^C.R.,  77th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1941,  p.  9458. 

24  Ibid.,  77th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1942,  pp.  2029,  4283.  *  Ibid.,  p.  4306. 

27  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1943,  pt.  n,  pp.  197- 
198,  255-259. 

27  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Commitee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1944,  p.  992;  U.S. 
House  of  Representatives,  Activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  51; 
C.R.,  77th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  p.  2427. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  225 

the  Farm  Security  Administration  had  largely  ignored  the  Bankhead- 
Jones  Act,  that  the  existence  of  collective  farms  and  ninety-nine-year 
leases  threatened  the  traditional  land  policy  of  the  United  States,  and 
that  the  land-leasing  and  land-purchasing  associations  were  means 
of  evading  congressional  restrictions  on  land  purchase.  Cooley  stressed 
the  fact  that,  with  the  sudden  accretion  of  federal  activity,  the  Congress 
did  not  have  the  time  or  the  ability  to  be  fully  advised  on  all  federal 
agencies,  and  this  apparently  had  permitted  the  Farm  Security  Ad- 
ministration to  violate  congressional  intentions.28 

Representative  Cooley  headed  the  select  committee  which  thor- 
oughly investigated  every  aspect  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration. 
The  lengthy  investigation  aroused  fear  among  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration supporters  that  Cooley  maliciously  desired  the  death  of  their 
agency.  The  American  Federation  of  Labor,  the  Congress  of  Industrial 
Organizations,  the  National  Farmers'  Union,  the  National  Council  of 
Churches,  the  National  Catholic  Welfare  Council,  and  President  Roose- 
velt all  came  out  in  support  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Farm  Bureau  and  organized  business  groups,  both 
of  which  opposed  the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  wanted  it 
abolished,  found  no  sure  ally  in  Cooley,  who  sincerely  believed  in  aid 
to  the  small  farmer  and  who  wished  the  tenant-purchase  and  re- 
habilitation programs  to  be  continued.  Based  on  his  published  state- 
ments in  the  thorough  and  extensive  hearings  of  1943  and  1944,  Cooley, 
a  Southern  Democrat,  was  very  sympathetic  to  the  aspirations  of  the 
small  farmers  and  particularly  to  their  desires  to  achieve  homeowner- 
ship  and  economic  independence.  He  hated  the  idea  of  bureaucracy 
and  was  especially  angry  at  the  Farm  Security  Administration  for  its 
defiance  of  Congress.  He  was  strongly  individualistic,  believing  in  the 
traditional  land  policies  and  in  governmental  thrift.  He  disliked  ex- 
tensive paternalism  and  was  against  any  tendency  toward  collectivism. 
But  at  the  same  time  he  distrusted  the  motives  of  the  large  farmers 
and  of  businessmen  in  opposing  the  Farm  Security  Administration, 
seeing  behind  their  opposition  a  good  bit  of  self-interest. 

The  congressional  hearings  revolved  around  the  committee  members' 
attack  upon  the  extravagance,  the  philosophy,  and  the  community- 
building  activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  counter- 
ing defense  of  the  officials  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  which 

2S  C.R.,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943,  pp.  2185-2186,  2192,  2194. 


226  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

was  based  upon  the  merit  of  the  rehabilitation  and  tenant-purchase 
programs.  The  committee  members  tended  to  blame  most  of  the 
community  projects  on  Tugwell.  They  even  tried  to  connect  these 
projects  and  his  collectivist  philosophy  with  his  pre-New  Deal  trip 
to  Russia.29  Involved  in  their  attack  was  a  distrust  of  intellectuals 
and  theorists,  who  lacked  a  "hard-boiled"  understanding  of  people. 
The  congressmen  believed  that  Ph.D.'s  too  often  evolved  "these  theories 
the  average  man  may  not  be  able  to  quite  formulate  and  set  in  mo- 
tion." 30  The  committee  members  were  astounded  at  the  financial  loss 
on  some  of  the  projects,  at  the  close  supervision,  at  the  attempts  to 
insure  a  lengthy  control  over  the  communities  by  the  government, 
and  at  the  amount  of  industry  sponsored  on  the  projects.  Cooley  was 
constantly  angered  to  learn  the  extent  to  which  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  had  departed  from  congressional  intentions,  avowing 
that  the  Farm  Security  Administration  officials  "have  been  doing  too 
much  thinking  for  themselves  and  have  not  been  following  the  policies 
laid  down  by  Congress."  31 

The  most  telling  criticisms  were  leveled  at  the  collective  farms  and 
the  long  leases.  These  were  the  most  obvious  breaks  with  the  old  society 
and  the  ones  most  disliked  by  the  congressmen.  Representative  John 
W.  Flannigan,  Jr.,  of  Virginia,  a  member  of  the  committee,  said:  "It 
looks  to  me  that  a  studied  effort  has  been  made  ...  to  finally  abolish 
fee  ownership  of  land  in  this  country."  He  declared  fee  simple  owner- 
ship to  be  "one  of  the  fundamentals  in  the  establishment  of  this  coun- 
try" and  tried  desperately  to  place  responsibility  for  the  "un-American 
scheme  of  getting  around  fee  simple  ownership."  32  Cooley  believed 
the  issue  of  vital  importance  "because  it  involves  a  great  principle; 
it  goes  deep  into  the  traditional  land  policy  of  this  country."  33  Through 
it  all  Calvin  B.  Baldwin,  Administrator  of  the  Farm  Security  Adminis- 
tration, was  a  rather  ineffective,  overly  submissive,  and  evasive  witness. 
He  refused  to  defend  the  community  and  co-operative  projects,  ad- 
mitting that  none  of  them  "should  be  continued."  34  The  whole  Farm 
Security  Administration  controversy  came  at  a  time  when  the  Roose- 
velt Administration,  busily  devoted  to  the  task  of  winning  a  war,  was 

29  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  279. 

30  Ibid.,  pp.  185,  269.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  36-39,  44,  493-495. 

83 Ibid.,  pp.  20-21,  55.  **  Ibid.,  p.  21.  "Ibid.,  p.  455. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  227 

not  willing  to  take  a  strong  stand  in  support  of  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  program  at  the  risk  of  offending  a  conservative  Con- 
gress. The  embarrassing  communities  and  other  aspects  of  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  were  sacrificed  without  a  really  strong  effort 
in  their  defense. 

In  its  final  report  the  Cooley  Committee  indicted  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  on  several  counts.  It  was  accused  of  starting  collective 
farms,  stretching  executive  orders,  disobeying  the  intent  of  the 
Bankhead-Jones  Act,  using  ninety-nine-year  leases  to  prevent  instead 
of  encourage  landownership,  colonizing,  regimenting,  and  too  closely 
supervising  its  clients  by  regulating  every  detail  in  their  lives,  uproot- 
ing families,  deceiving  clients  with  false  promises  of  ownership  and  a 
"promised  land"  in  a  community,  granting  loans  to  unqualified  bor- 
rowers, obeying  the  President's  Committee  on  Farm  Tenancy  rather 
than  Congress,  backing  industrial  enterprises  in  competition  with 
private  business,  and  permitting  an  enlarged  and  inefficient  admin- 
istrative organization.35  But  despite  this,  the  Cooley  Committee  rec- 
ommended that  the  tenant-purchase  and  rehabilitation  programs  be 
continued  in  a  new  agency,  a  Farmers'  Home  Corporation,  which 
would  absorb  both  the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  the  Farm 
Credit  Administration.  A  bill  to  this  effect  was  introduced  into  Con- 
gress. 

The  Farmers'  Home  Corporation  bill,  which  was  first  introduced  in 
1944  and,  after  much  delay,  eventually  enacted  in  1946,  abolished  the 
Farm  Security  Administration.  It  provided  for  a  Farmers'  Home  Cor- 
poration to  regulate  tenant-purchase  and  rehabilitation  loans.  After 
six  months  for  study,  the  corporation  was  to  liquidate  the  remaining 
resettlement  projects.  It  was  to  have  only  eighteen  months  to  dispose 
of  all  this  property.  Further  loans  to  co-operative  associations  were 
strictly  forbidden.36  The  new  corporation  was  to  have  no  authority  to 
purchase  land  and  no  basis  for  paternalistic  supervision,  and  it  was 
required  to  render  annual  accounts  to  Congress.  The  undeveloped 
subsistence  homesteads  property  turned  over  to  the  Federal  Public 

35  U.S.  House  of  Representatives,  Activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration, 
pp.  1-19. 

36  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  Farmers'  Home  Corporation 
Act  of  1944,  78th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1944,  pp.  1-9. 


228  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Housing  Authority  was  to  be  repossessed  and  immediately  sold.  The 
most  unfair  criticism  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  con- 
tained in  the  minority  report  on  the  Farmers'  Home  Corporation  Act. 
Tugwell  was  falsely  accused  of  filling  his  agency  with  "thousands  of 
Utopian  planners  who  were  'hell  bent'  on  remaking  the  United  States 
into  a  Communist  State."  They  argued  that  the  Cooley  Committee  had 
"uncovered  hundreds  of  communistic  projects."  37 

Even  as  the  Cooley  Committee  debated  the  eventual  fate  of  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  the  various  communities  were  bene- 
fiting from  the  wartime  boom.  In  many  of  the  projects  the  wages  of 
homesteaders  soared  above  earlier  limitations.  Even  the  stranded 
communities  became  more  prosperous,  with  many  of  the  coal  mines 
reopening.  The  Farm  Security  Administration  was  unsuccessful  in  an 
attempt  at  procuring  decentralized  defense  industry  for  some  of  the 
projects,  but  this  did  not  mean  any  shortage  of  jobs.  As  prosperity 
returned  to  the  homesteaders,  there  was  an  increasing  tendency  to 
neglect  the  subsistence  plots,  either  leaving  them  idle,  leasing  them, 
or  hiring  laborers  to  work  them. 

The  Cooley  investigation  led  to  many  changes  in  the  Farm  Secu- 
rity Administration.  In  1943  the  lease  and  purchase  contracts  were 
replaced  by  quitclaim  deeds  with  approximately  the  same  restrictions 
and  the  same  variable  payment  plan  already  being  used  in  the  tenant- 
purchase  program.  In  the  same  year  the  House  Appropriations  Com- 
mittee seriously  considered  turning  the  Farm  Security  Administration 
loans  over  to  the  Farm  Credit  Administration  and  its  supervisory 
activities  over  to  the  Extension  Service  as  a  method  of  getting  rid  of 
its  distrusted  leadership  and  philosophy.38  Baldwin,  much  harassed 
from  all  sides,  was  hindered  in  his  liquidation  of  projects  by  a  re- 
quirement of  the  Solicitor  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  that  the 
projects  be  sold  in  such  a  manner  as  to  help  in  the  rehabilitation  of 
needy  families,  since  the  original  appropriations  had  been  made  for 
this  purpose.  This  prevented  an  open-auction  method  of  disposition. 
Baldwin  himself  was  reluctant  to  dispose  of  the  projects  at  such  a 

37  U.S.   House   of  Representatives,   Farmers'   Home   Corporation   Act  of  1944, 
Report  no.  1747,  78th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1944,  pp.  2-3,  56. 

38  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  289-291;  Senate  Agricul- 
tural Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hearings  on  Agricultural 
Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1944,  pp.  264-266. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  229 

rate  as  to  harm  or  dispossess  the  homesteaders  or  to  cause  the  govern- 
ment any  greater  loss  than  absolutely  necessary.  But  despite  these 
feelings,  he  promised  in  February,  1943,  to  be  rid  of  the  co-operative 
projects  by  June  30,  1943,  which  proved  to  be  an  impossibility.39 

In  November,  1943,  Baldwin  and  his  assistant,  George  S.  Mitchell, 
resigned  from  the  Farm  Security  Administration  to  join  Sidney  Hill- 
man  in  the  Congress  of  Industrial  Organizations'  Political  Action 
Committee,  lending  some  ammunition  to  the  conservative  attack  on 
the  radicalism  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  Baldwin  was  re- 
placed by  a  former  North  Carolina  congressman,  Frank  Hancock, 
who  immediately  appointed  a  new  staff  and  secured  the  confidence 
of  Congress.  This  change  in  leadership  really  marked  the  end  of  the 
Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration 
programs  as  initiated  by  Tugwell  and  continued  by  his  successors.  It 
meant  that  Congress  had,  at  last,  gained  control  over  the  policies  of 
the  Farm  Security  Administration.  It  meant  that  experimentation  and 
broad  attempts  at  institutional  reform  were  ended.  Hancock  himself 
signified,  at  least  in  the  eyes  of  Congress,  a  shift  from  idealism  to 
practicality,  from  extravagance  to  economy,  from  dangerous  radical- 
ism to  safe  moderation.  He  immediately  reduced  the  personnel  of 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  began  studying  methods  for 
disposing  of  the  resettlement  projects. 

Hancock  found  that  many  of  the  former  sales  of  homesteads  to 
project  clients  were  merely  paper  transactions,  since  the  clients  were 
already  so  deeply  in  debt  to  the  Farm  Security  Administration  that 
they  could  never  pay  out.  He  slowed  the  process  of  sales  temporarily 
in  order  to  place  the  liquidation  on  a  sounder  basis,  incurring  some 
wrath  from  Congress.  By  June  30,  1944,  only  3,045  deeds  had  been 
granted  on  over  9,000  units.  Eight  co-operative  associations  were  still 
in  existence,  with  one  refusing  to  cancel  its  ninety-nine-year  lease, 
much  to  the  embarrassment  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration. 
Then  the  sales  began  at  a  rapid  pace.  As  of  January  1,  1945,  only 
2,016  units  were  unsold;  as  of  June  30,  1945,  only  1,434  units.  The 
units  were  sold,  if  possible,  at  fair  market  values  to  low-income  fam- 

39  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1944,  pp.  1036,  1088, 
and  Hearings  on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1945,  p.  989; 
Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  450. 


230  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

ilies  who  met  Bankhead-Jones  standards.  None  were  sold  to  people 
who  had  more  debts  than  assets,  and  this  eliminated  many  of  the  old 
homesteaders  who  had  waited  expectantly  for  a  chance  to  purchase 
their  homes.  All  units  not  salable  to  low-income  clients  were  sold  at 
public  auction  after  a  newspaper  announcement.40 

The  liquidation  of  the  rural  projects,  even  though  carried  out  at  a 
time  of  inflated  land  values,  resulted  in  a  tremendous  loss  to  the 
government.  On  many  projects  the  liquidation  price  was  only  ap- 
proximately one-fourth  of  the  total  cost.  Out  of  8,945  units  costing 
$70,775,970.42,  the  Farm  Security  Administration  sold  7,276  units  for 
only  $29,245,446.59.  At  this  same  rate  the  total  units  would  have  sold 
for  $35,953,755.08,  or  almost  exactly  one-half  of  cost.  As  examples,  the 
average  unit  sale  price  on  sixty-six  units  at  Penderlea  was  $3,110, 
whereas  each  unit  cost  $11,633.  Eighty-eight  units  at  Gee's  Bend  sold 
for  an  average  of  $1,400,  whereas  they  cost  an  average  of  over 
$4,000.41  These  high  unit  costs  included  the  many  community  facil- 
ities which  were  not  included  in  the  sale  prices.  They  also  included 
all  the  losses  incurred  by  the  use  of  relief  labor. 

In  1946,  with  the  passage  of  the  Farmers'  Home  Corporation  Act, 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  abolished  and  its  functions 
transferred  to  a  new  agency,  the  Farmers'  Home  Administration,  on 
November  1,  1946.  This  new  agency  had  specific  authorizations  and 
instructions  for  the  disposition  of  the  few  remaining  homestead  units. 
By  April,  1947,  only  290  units  remained  unsold,  and  this  led  Repre- 
sentative Everett  M.  Dirksen  of  Illinois  to  remark  that,  at  last,  "it 
appears  that  in  the  year  ahead  there  is  some  likelihood  of  finally 
closing  out  Mr.  Tugwell's  lovely  dream  in  the  field  of  resettlement."  42 
By  February,  1948,  the  last  units  were  sold,  but  Tugwell's  dream  was 

40  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1945,  pp.  197,  966, 
and  Hearings  on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1946,  pt.  n, 
79th  Cong.,    1st  Sess.,   1945,  pp.   516-517,   525-527,   564;   U.S.   Department  of 
Agriculture,  War  Food  Administration,  Farm  Security  Administration,  The  Annual 
Report  of  the  FSA,  1943-1944  (Washington,  1944),  p.  14. 

41  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1947,  79th  Cong.,  2d 
Sess.,  1946,  pp.  1411-1419. 

42  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1948,  pt.  i,  80th  Cong., 
1st  Sess.,  1947,  pp.  1467-1468. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  231 

far  from  an  end.43  Dirksen  had  forgotten  about  the  greenbelt  cities 
and  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  which  were  still  re- 
tained by  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority. 

Under  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  the  nonfarming  com- 
munities were  liquidated  as  quickly  as  possible.  Most  of  the  super- 
visory activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  were  dropped, 
and  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  was  only  a  creditor  agency 
for  the  nineteen  homestead  associations.  Since  many  individuals  had 
forty-year  purchase  contracts,  Congress,  in  1944,  passed  a  law  provid- 
ing that,  on  proffering  the  full  payment  of  the  purchase  price,  the 
homesteader  had  to  receive  a  deed  for  his  property,  regardless  of  the 
lapse  of  time  since  he  had  purchased  it.  It  also  required  a  quitclaim 
deed  with  no  reservations,  conditions,  or  restrictions  whatsoever.44 
The  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  immediately  began  to  issue 
deeds  for  those  who  wanted  to  complete  their  payments  and,  at  the 
same  time,  granted  releases  from  the  mortgage  lien  to  the  homestead 
associations  concerned.  Congressional  intent  even  prevented  the  Fed- 
eral Public  Housing  Authority  from  utilizing  deed  restrictions  in 
order  to  avoid  speculation,  resale,  commercial  building,  or  added 
dwellings.  This  left  no  government  control  over  the  communities  and 
ended  all  social  experimentation.  The  communities  were  thrown  open 
to  real  estate  speculators  unless  the  citizens  themselves,  without  gov- 
ernment backing,  took  steps  to  ward  them  off  through  voluntary  re- 
strictions or  zoning  laws.  Even  the  mineral  rights  were  restored  to  the 
homesteaders  as  quickly  as  possible.45 

In  1944  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  sold  two  homestead 
associations,  at  Hattiesburg  and  Meridian,  directly  to  the  individual 
homesteaders  because  of  continuous  delinquencies  on  the  part  of  the 
associations.  In  the  same  year  Three  Rivers  Gardens  was  foreclosed 
and  declared  surplus  property  when  it  defaulted  in  its  payments.  The 
Tygart  Valley  Co-operative  Association  was  sued  for  not  keeping  up 

43  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1949,  pt.  n,  80th  Cong., 
2d  Sess.,  1948,  p.  387. 

44  C.R.,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943,  p.  1418;  ibid.,  78th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1944, 
p.  6477. 

45  Paul  W.  Wager,  One  Foot  on  the  Soil:  A  Study  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
in  Alabama  (Bureau  of  Public  Administration  at  the  University  of  Alabama,  1945), 
pp.  146-148. 


232  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

its  payments  on  its  loans,  and  four  co-operative  stores  were  sold  on 
other  projects.46  The  Farm  Security  Administration  had  been  accused 
of  coddling  its  clients;  no  such  accusation  could  be  leveled  against 
the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority.  Everything  was  businesslike 
now. 

At  the  end  of  World  War  II  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority 
rushed  its  liquidation  program.  The  hosiery  mills  at  three  projects 
were  sold  for  $1,200,000,  or  83  per  cent  of  cost.  On  December  1,  1945, 
Westmoreland  was  sold  to  an  association  of  its  residents,  insuring 
community  control  at  this  project.  At  least  a  few  individual  units  had 
been  sold  on  all  but  six  projects,  and  189  clear  deeds  had  been  granted 
to  individuals  on  the  homestead  association  projects.47  In  1946  four 
homestead  associations  secured  private  financing  and  paid  off  their 
loans  in  full.  Of  1,960  unsold  units  in  the  nonconveyed  subsistence 
homesteads  communities,  over  1,000  units  were  sold  in  1946.  In  sell- 
ing, all  former  commitments  were  honored,  with  clients  on  four 
projects  receiving  credit  for  rentals  paid  under  the  temporary  licensing 
agreements.  If  no  sales  commitments  had  been  made  by  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  or  predecessor  agencies,  the  units  were  sold 
at  fair  market  value  and,  if  possible,  to  the  resident  homesteaders. 
The  terms  of  sale  required  a  25  per  cent  down  payment  and  the  re- 
mainder over  twenty  years.  If  possible,  common  utilities  were  sold  to 
associations  organized  by  the  homesteaders.48 

In  1947  the  remaining  subsistence  homesteads  units  and  the  three 
greenbelt  cities  became  the  responsibility  of  the  Public  Housing  Ad- 
ministration in  the  newly  formed  Housing  and  Home  Finance  Agency. 
By  the  end  of  1947  only  431  units  in  the  subsistence  homesteads  proj- 
ects were  unsold.  By  the  end  of  1948  they  had  been  reduced  to  thirty. 
These  represented  units  that  had  been  sold  to  individuals  by  the 
Farm  Security  Administration  under  forty-year  purchase  terms.  Under 
the  contract  and  later  legislation  the  government  retained  title  until 
the  final  payment  was  made,  at  any  time  up  to  the  forty  years  al- 

46  U.S.  National  Housing  Agency,  Third  Annual  Report  of  the  National  Housing 
Agency,  January  1  to  December  31,  1944  (Washington,  1945),  p.  214. 

47  U.S.  National  Housing  Agency,  Fourth  Annual  Report  of  the  National  Hous- 
ing Agency,  January  1  to  December  31,  1945,  pt.  iv  (Washington,  1946),  pp. 
60-61. 

48  U.S.  National  Housing  Agency,  Fifth  Annual  Report  of  the  National  Housing 
Agency,  January  1  to  December  31,  1946  (Washington,  1947),  pp.  256-257. 


Old  Society  Reasserts  Claims  233 

lowed.  Most  purchasers  of  this  type  had  paid  in  full  or,  under  en- 
couragement from  the  Public  Housing  Administration,  had  secured 
other  financing  in  order  to  fulfill  the  contract  and  receive  title.  The 
thirty  mentioned  had  not  done  that  and  continued  their  payments 
under  their  old  contract.  By  1952  these  thirty  units  had  been  reduced 
to  eleven.49  But  for  all  practical  purposes  the  liquidation  of  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  projects  was  completed  in  1948.  At  that  time  only 
the  greenbelt  towns  remained  in  government  ownership.  Their  liqui- 
dation will  be  discussed  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

The  finale  to  the  story  of  the  New  Deal  communities  was  written 
in  an  age  ever  farther  removed  from  the  insecurity  and  intellectual 
volatility  of  the  depression.  It  was  written  in  terms  of  reaction.  The 
idealism  and  reforming  zeal  of  the  architects  of  the  communities  and 
the  new  society  were  repudiated.  The  revolution  was  over.  The  old 
society,  slightly  revamped,  was  again  embraced,  at  least  for  a  while. 
Traditional  gods  once  again  possessed  men's  minds  and  claimed  their 
loyalties.  Experimental  communities  became,  except  for  their  odd  de- 
signs, ordinary  communities.  Most  people  soon  forgot  that  Dyess, 
Arkansas,  or  Cahaba,  Alabama,  had  been  part  of  a  large  social  ex- 
periment. Even  Arthurdale  and  Hightstown,  once  so  controversial, 
were  remembered  only  because  of  the  controversy.  But  a  few  people 
remembered,  remembered  well.  They  were  the  homesteaders,  the  liv- 
ing clay  in  the  great  exhibit.  To  them  Cahaba  and  Dyess  and  Arthur- 
dale  represented  not  only  an  experiment  but  their  homes.  To  them 
the  story  of  the  New  Deal  communities  was  really  a  story  of  one 
community,  their  community.  Thus,  beyond  ideas,  policies,  admin- 
istrators, bureaus,  the  story  of  the  New  Deal  communities  was  really 
many  varying  stories — one  for  each  individual  community. 

49  U.S.  Housing  and  Home  Finance  Agency,  First  Annual  Report,  1947,  pt.  rv 
(Washington,  1948),  p.  21,  Second  Annual  Report,  1948  (Washington,  1949), 
p.  321,  and  Sixth  Annual  Report,  1952,  pt.  iv  (Washington,  1953),  p.  431. 


Part  Three 


OF  INDIVIDUAL  COMMUNITIES 


>t  X 


Arthur  dale— An  Experimental 
Community 


ON  a  cold  night  in  early  November,  1933,  Clarence  Pickett,  executive 
secretary  of  the  American  Friends  Service  Committee  and  Assistant 
Administrator  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  Louis  M. 
Howe,  confidential  secretary  to  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  and  Mrs.  Frank- 
lin D.  Roosevelt  entrained  at  Washington,  D.C.,  for  Fairmont,  West 
Virginia.  The  next  morning  they  were  escorted  by  some  American 
Friends  Service  Committee  workers  to  the  site  of  the  old  Arthur 
mansion  at  Reedsville,  halfway  between  Fairmont  and  Morgantown. 
Here  everything  was  confusion,  for  the  first  work  on  the  first  subsistence 
homesteads  community  was  already  under  way.  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and 
Louis  Howe  came  with  promises  of  rapid  accomplishment;  they  met 
with  architects,  engineers,  prospective  builders,  educational  leaders, 
ministers,  and  planning  officials.  Before  the  day  was  over,  Howe,  in  a 
burst  of  enthusiasm,  placed  a  telephone  order  for  fifty  prefabricated 
cottages  to  be  delivered  to  the  homestead  site  within  two  weeks.  Howe 
inspired  the  prospective  homesteaders  with  assurances  that,  by  Christ- 
mas, the  first  homestead  cottages  would  be  ready  for  occupancy. 
Clarence  Pickett  later  wrote:  "What  one  saw  on  that  November  day 
was  the  turning  point  in  American  concepts  of  public  responsibility 
for  suffering  of  citizens,  wherever  they  might  live  and  whatever  might 

237 


238  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

be  their  circumstances."1  Many  other  people,  looking  back  to  that 
November  day,  saw  only  the  first  and  most  serious  mistake  in  a  long 
series  of  mistakes  at  Arthurdale. 

The  origin  of  Arthurdale,  as  many  other  of  the  subsistence  home- 
steads communities,  had  predated  the  passage  of  the  subsistence  home- 
steads legislation.  In  1931  the  American  Friends  Service  Committee 
began  a  program  of  child  feeding  in  the  bituminous  coal  fields;  it  grew, 
by  1932,  into  a  broader  rehabilitation  program,  with  subsistence  gar- 
dening and  handicrafts.  The  worst  conditions  in  the  coal-mine  areas 
were  in  West  Virginia,  where  many  mines  had  been  virtually  closed 
since  1920.  Scott's  Run,  a  term  applied  both  to  a  creek  near  Morgan- 
town  and  to  the  mining  settlements  clustered  close  to  its  bank,  became 
a  symbol  for  the  worst  poverty  and  degradation  of  the  company  towns. 
Thus  it  was  in  the  Scott's  Run  or  Morgantown  area  that  the  Friends  at- 
tempted their  most  extensive  rehabilitation  program.  The  committee, 
under  the  direction  of  Clarence  Pickett,  received  help  in  its  rehabilita- 
tion program  from  a  Council  of  Social  Agencies  in  Morgantown  and 
from  officials  of  West  Virginia  University,  also  located  in  Morgantown. 
Even  as  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  was  being  born  in  Wash- 
ington, these  groups  in  Morgantown  had  prepared  a  prospectus  for  a 
Co-operative  Self-Help  Association,  which  was  to  settle  stranded  miners 
on  subsistence  farms  throughout  the  state.  The  College  of  Agriculture 
at  West  Virginia  University  made  a  survey  of  available  lands,  and 
public-spirited  citizens  were  asked  to  contribute  to  a  $50,000  budget 
for  the  homestead  efforts.2  Among  the  local  promoters  of  subsistence 
farming,  the  old  Richard  M.  Arthur  estate  near  Morgantown  was  much 
in  mind  as  a  possible  site  for  subsistence  farmsteads.  This  farm  of 
approximately  1,200  acres  had  been  used  as  an  experimental  farm  by 
the  College  of  Agriculture  and  contained  fertile  land.  The  estate,  which 
was  about  to  revert  to  the  state  for  unpaid  taxes,  had  been  purchased 
in  1903  by  Arthur,  a  Philadelphia  merchant,  from  the  Fairfax  family, 
which  had  owned  the  farm  since  the  Revolution.  The  area  reputedly 
had  been  surveyed  by  George  Washington. 

In  the  summer  of  1933,  as  plans  for  subsistence  homesteads  were 
developed  at  Morgantown,  Clarence  Pickett  interested  Mrs.  Roosevelt 

1  Clarence  E.  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread  (Boston,  1953),  p.  47. 

2  Millard  Milburn  Rice,  "Footnote  on  Arthurdale,"  Harper's  Magazine,  CLXXX 
(1939-1940),  411-413. 


Arthurdale  239 

in  the  plight  of  the  miners  and  brought  her  to  visit  the  Scott's  Run 
area.  Mrs.  Roosevelt  immediately  became  an  enthusiastic  supporter  of 
the  rehabilitation  and  subsistence  homesteads  program  of  the  Friends. 
When  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  organized  in  August, 
Pickett  became  Assistant  Administrator  and  headed  the  program  for 
stranded  miners.  This,  plus  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  enthusiastic  backing,  in- 
sured a  project  somewhere  in  the  Morgantown  area.  On  October  12, 
1933,  Ickes  announced  approval  of  plans  for  a  project  at  Morgantown. 
Already  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  had  purchased  the 
Arthur  estate,  which  was  surveyed  by  the  College  of  Agriculture  of 
West  Virginia  University  and  by  the  United  States  Department  of 
Agriculture.  The  local  sponsors,  including  university  officials  and  the 
members  of  the  Morgantown  Council  of  Social  Agencies,  early  submitted 
plans  for  a  homestead  community  on  the  higher  grounds  of  the  estate, 
with  community  gardens  in  the  low-lying  meadows.  This  plan  was 
rejected  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  which  required 
the  subsistence  plots  to  be  connected  with  the  homes.  The  accepted 
plans  called  for  200  five-acre  homestead  plots,  a  community  school, 
and  a  co-operative  store.  It  was  hoped  that  the  first  homesteads  could 
be  completed  in  the  fall  of  1933,  possibly  even  by  Thanksgiving.  Bush- 
rod  Grimes,  a  university  extension  agent  and  leader  of  the  sponsors  at 
the  university,  became  the  first  project  manager.3 

In  the  fall  of  1933  Arthurdale  was  a  great  dream,  which  somehow 
never  became  a  complete  reality.  The  dream  involved  a  transition  from 
hell  to  heaven  for  a  group  of  stranded  miners.  From  their  huts  clinging 
to  a  hillside  above  Scott's  Run,  from  their  lack  of  sanitary  facilities, 
from  the  midst  of  malnutrition,  disease,  alcoholism,  crime,  delinquency, 
and  high  mortality,  a  fortunate  few  were  to  escape  to  pretty  white 
homes,  situated  on  small  plats  of  farm  land,  surrounded  by  lawns, 
flowers,  orchards,  and  fields.  They  were  to  enjoy  regular  meals,  not 
through  the  bitter  bread  of  charity,  but  through  the  food  produced 
by  their  own  hands.  They  were  to  have  cows,  poultry,  root  cellars, 
preserve  closets,  and  plenty  of  air  and  sunshine.  In  their  new  com- 

3  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread,  p.  45;  Wesley  Stout,  "The  New  Homesteaders," 
Saturday  Evening  Post,  CCVII  (Aug.  4,  1934),  62;  Blair  Bolles,  "Resettling 
America,"  American  Mercury,  XXXIX  (1936),  342;  Henry  I.  Harriman,  "A  New 
Pattern  for  Industrial  America,"  New  York  Times,  Sept.  23,  1934,  sec.  6,  pp.  4-5; 
Millard  Milburn  Rice,  "The  Fuller  Life  at  Reedsville,"  Nations  Business,  XXIV 
(May,  1936),  25. 


240  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

munity  they  could  "face  to  the  sky  instead  of  to  the  earth,  to  watch 
the  long  summer  wane,  and  the  color  come  on  the  mountains,  and  the 
snow  fall  and  pass,  and  the  redbud  turn  the  hills  to  new  splendor  and 
the  dogwood  fleck  them  with  white,  instead  of  being  shut  away  among 
the  slag  pile  down  in  one  of  the  Tiollows/  "  4  They  were  to  have  part- 
time  employment  in  a  government-sponsored  Post  Office  factory,  were 
to  govern  themselves  through  a  town  meeting,  and  were  to  find  other 
sources  of  employment  and  a  constructive  use  of  leisure  time  in  mul- 
tiple handicrafts.  The  community  was  to  point  the  way  to  a  new  way  of 
life,  not  just  for  the  miners  but  for  all  America.  It  was  to  show  the 
way  to  a  solution  of  the  problems  of  stranded  populations,  was  to 
promote  industrial  decentralization,  and  was  to  show  what  social  and 
economic  planning  might  accomplish  if  given  a  chance. 

Yet,  with  all  the  dreams,  there  was  very  little  co-ordinated  planning 
for  the  community  that  was  later  to  be  called  Arthurdale  (it  was  at 
first  known  as  the  Reedsville  Experimental  Community).  As  at  most 
of  the  subsistence  homesteads  communities,  the  ideas  of  the  local 
sponsors  did  not  always  meet  the  approval  of  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads.  This  was  to  be  expected  and,  in  most  cases,  led 
merely  to  delays  in  securing  approval  of  project  plans.  At  Arthurdale 
another  element  complicated  any  attempt  at  formalized  administra- 
tion. Mrs.  Roosevelt  adopted  Arthurdale  as  her  own  special  project 
and  became  a  sort  of  godmother  to  the  miners  of  Scott's  Run.  Sharing 
her  interest  were  Louis  Howe  and  even  President  Roosevelt,  although 
the  latter  was  too  busy  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  development  of 
Arthurdale.  Not  so  Howe,  Mrs.  Roosevelt,  and  many  of  her  humani- 
tarian-minded friends.  They  occupied  an  indefinite,  semiofficial  position 
that  brought  Ickes,  the  administrator  par  excellence,  to  a  point  of  near 
desperation.  Although  not  employees  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads,  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  Howe  made  many  of  the  important 
decisions  and  determined  much  of  the  policy  at  Arthurdale.  Mrs.  Roose- 
velt selected  or  approved  most  of  the  important  personnel  employed. 
The  situation  became  one  of  administrative  confusion,  with  Mrs.  Roose- 
velt's humanitarian  impulses  often  running  counter  to  the  administrative 
policies  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  Embarrassment 
followed  embarrassment  as  far  as  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 

4  William  E.  Brooks,  "Arthurdale — A  New  Chance,"  Atlantic  Monthly,  CLV 
(1935),  197. 


Arthurdale  241 

steads  was  concerned,  although  M.  L.  Wilson  was  much  more  tolerant 
of  the  situation  than  was  Ickes. 

On  the  same  day  that  Howe  placed  his  telephone  order  for  fifty 
prefabricated  houses  at  a  cost  of  $48,600,  he  also  telephoned  the 
War  Department  and  asked  for  fifty  mattresses,  fifty  pillows,  and  suf- 
ficient blankets  and  pillow  cases,  all  to  be  delivered  to  Arthurdale  by 
Monday,  November  6.  The  War  Department  had  no  authority  to  turn 
this  equipment  over  to  another  agency,  but  since  Howe  presumably 
spoke  for  the  Commander  in  Chief  they  complied,  listing  the  request 
as  an  emergency  requirement  and  later  demanding  an  accounting 
from  a  surprised  Ickes.5  At  about  the  same  time  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  sec- 
retary presented  an  expense  account  to  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  for  one  of  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  early  trips  to  Arthurdale, 
throwing  the  Department  of  the  Interior  into  a  quandary,  since  they 
had  no  authority  to  pay  for  her  transportation.6  This  was  the  only  such 
request  ever  received  from  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  was  probably  made 
by  her  secretary  without  her  knowledge,  but  it  did  show  the  problems 
occasioned  by  her  sincere  but  unofficial  endeavors.  Actually  Mrs.  Roose- 
velt unselfishly  spent  thousands  of  dollars  of  her  own  money  at  Arthur- 
dale. 

From  November,  1933,  to  July,  1934,  the  history  of  Arthurdale  was 
bound  up  in  the  long-deferred  completion  of  the  first  fifty  homes.  As 
Howe's  prefabricated  cottages  arrived,  they  proved  utterly  worthless 
for  the  intended  use.  The  houses,  ten  by  forty  feet  in  size,  were  made 
of  Oregon  cedar  frames,  cedar  siding,  and,  for  the  interior,  building 
paper  and  fiberboard.  Intended  for  vacation  use,  they  were  not  at  all 
suited  for  the  cold  winters  at  Arthurdale.  Nevertheless  they  were 
bolted  together  and  placed  on  prepared  foundations.  In  January,  Mrs. 
Roosevelt  selected  an  architect  from  New  York  to  come  to  Arthurdale 
and  supervise  the  alteration  of  the  prefabs.  This  marked  the  beginning 
of  outside  control  and  direction  at  the  project,  although  the  local  spon- 
sors remained  loyal  to  the  project  despite  their  having  less  and  less 
voice  in  its  direction.  At  Arthurdale  new  foundations  were  constructed 
and  three  sides  of  the  prefabs  pulled  out  and  expanded.  The  basements 
remained  a  maze  of  foundations,  while  the  walls  of  the  prefab  section 
of  each  house  remained  extrathin.  As  drastically  revised  and  finally 

5  Oscar  L.  Chapman  to  Ickes,  Nov.  17,  1933,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

6  H.  M.  Gilliam  to  Ebert  K.  Burlew,  n.d.,  ibid. 


242  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

completed  in  July,  1934,  the  first  fifty  homes  included  either  four,  five, 
or  six  rooms,  basements,  and  baths.7 

The  first  fifty  homes  were  constructed  by  relief  labor,  with  prospective 
homesteaders  among  those  employed.  The  houses  included  copper 
plumbing,  oversized  air  furnaces  to  heat  the  thin  prefabs,  and  water 
from  individual  wells.  Each  home  had  an  individual  septic  tank  and,  to 
protect  the  bacterial  action  of  the  tank  from  grease,  a  $37.50  grease  trap 
that,  because  of  the  high  cost,  became  one  of  the  many  famous  follies  of 
Arthurdale.  Each  homestead  plot  had  a  barn.  The  community  buildings 
were  grouped  around  a  town  square.  They  included  an  old  Presbyterian 
church  that  was  moved  to  the  project  and  converted  into  a  pretty 
community  building,  although  its  sides  were  knocked  out  to  accommo- 
date a  barbershop,  forge,  and  furniture  shop.  A  building  originally 
planned  for  a  power  plant  was  converted  into  an  administration  build- 
ing. The  old  Arthur  mansion  was  used  as  an  early  headquarters  and 
as  a  meeting  place. 

Not  only  did  Mrs.  Roosevelt  select  the  architect  to  redesign  the 
prefabricated  homes,  but  she  also  helped  plan  the  interior  design  and 
furniture  for  the  homes  which,  after  all  the  confusion  and  expense, 
were  neat,  pretty,  and  well  landscaped  on  completion.  Assisting  Mrs. 
Roosevelt  was  Miss  Nancy  Cook,  who  had  operated  a  small  co-operative 
furniture  plant  with  Mrs.  Roosevelt  at  Hyde  Park.  Mrs.  Roosevelt 
excused  Howe's  mistake  in  ordering  the  prefabricated  homes  and  the 
resultant  expense  in  redesigning  them  as  a  necessary  part  of  a  beginning 
experiment.  She  regarded  Arthurdale  as  a  social  laboratory,  where  ex- 
perimentation could  be  carried  on  in  house  types,  use  of  electricity, 
and  use  of  government  factories  and  in  a  new  type  of  rural  education. 
She  deplored  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  Ickes  and  others  to  use  the 
subsistence  homesteads  appropriation  to  place  as  many  people  as  pos- 
sible in  inexpensive  homes  provided  with  only  the  bare  necessities.  She 
wanted  Arthurdale  to  be  an  exhibit  of  a  new  way  of  life,  visited  by 
50,000  to  100,000  people  each  year.  She  desired  a  national  research 
center  in  subsistence  homesteading  at  West  Virginia  University,  since 
Arthurdale  would  be  the  first  project  of  its  kind  in  the  world  and,  as  an 
experiment,  would  rival  Radburn,  New  Jersey,  in  its  importance.  Be- 

7  Farm  Security  Administration,  "Arthurdale:  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs  to 
June  30,  1939,"  in  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Stout,  "The  New  Homesteaders," 
pp.  5-6. 


Arthurdale  243 

yond  all  that  it  would  be  the  focal  point  for  the  regional  planning  and 
development  of  the  Upper  Monongahela  valley.  As  such  an  experi- 
ment any  early  mistakes  or  excessive  costs  were  justified.8 

Mrs.  Roosevelt's  expensive  plans  for  Arthurdale  plagued  Ickes.  He 
felt  that  the  first  fifty  homes  appeared  "a  good  deal  like  a  joke"  and  had 
difficulties  in  restraining  the  expenditures  of  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  architect 
and  the  countless  other  planners  and  architects.  At  the  same  time  a 
businesslike  project  manager  appointed  by  Ickes  was  opposed  by 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  eventually  forced  out  of  his  job.  Mrs.  Roosevelt 
publicly  announced  that  the  excessive  costs  of  the  Howe  houses  would 
be  written  off  as  an  experiment  and  would  "not  be  borne"  by  the 
homesteaders.9  This  came  as  a  surprise  to  Ickes  and  again  led  to 
embarrassment,  since  it  opened  the  way  for  new  criticism  of  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  program.  Meanwhile  Howe  was  constantly  inter- 
fering with  the  plans  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  He 
had  a  scheme  for  an  experimental  power  plant  at  Arthurdale  which 
was  to  be  used  as  a  yardstick  to  measure  private-power  prices.  All  the 
experts  consulted  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  said  such 
a  plant  would  cost  at  least  $50,000  and  would  provide  no  saving,  but 
Howe  was  never  satisfied,  arguing  that  the  cost  would  not  have  exceeded 
$15,000.  Howe,  although  occupying  no  official  position  in  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  was  chairman  of  the  Electrical  Committee 
for  Arthurdale,  one  of  the  committees  staffed  by  Arthurdale  sponsors. 
He  was  vexed  to  learn  that  the  first  homes  did  not  contain  refrigerators. 
He  wrote  Pynchon:  "God  alone  knows  how  refrigerators  came  to  be 
eliminated.  .  .  .  Nothing  was  to  be  done  without  reference  to  me." 
Howe  threatened  to  have  the  man  fired  who  was  responsible  for  the 
electrical  service  since,  as  he  claimed,  President  Roosevelt  wished  all 
the  electrical  work  done  under  his  ( Howe's )  supervision.  He  also  stated 
that  Mrs.  Roosevelt  was  very  disappointed,  since  she  had  been  selecting 
refrigerators  for  some  time.10 

Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  Nancy  Cook,  who  was  employed  by  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  as  a  specialist,  supervised  the  internal  ap- 

8  Mrs.  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  March  26,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National 
Archives. 

9  Ickes,  Secret  Diary,  I,  150-152;  C.  E.  Pynchon  to  Oscar  Chapman,  Oct.  4, 
1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

10  Pynchon  to  Burlew,  Oct.  17,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives;  Louis  Howe 
to  Pynchon,  July  24,  1934,  ibid. 


244  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

pointments  of  the  new  homes.  Furniture  was  provided  by  the  Moun- 
taineer Craftsmen's  Co-operative  Association,  which  was  the  handi- 
craft group  founded  by  the  American  Friends  Service  Committee  and 
which  was  later  supported  by  the  Civil  Works  Administration.  This 
co-operative  group,  which  later  moved  into  shops  at  Arthurdale, 
constructed  beautiful  maple  furniture  for  the  project  at  no  cost  to  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  ( but  at  a  cost  to  the  Civil  Works 
Administration ) .  The  furniture  included  not  only  major  items,  but  linens, 
curtains,  and  tapestries.  By  June  two  model  homes  were  completed 
and  decorated  for  the  benefit  of  visitors  and  photographers.  The  land- 
scaping was  perfect  down  to  the  smallest  item.  Wild  grapevines  were 
procured  from  a  nearby  wood  and  carefully  twined  around  trellises. 
One  reporter  discovered  that  rhododendron  were  hauled  sixty  miles 
at  an  expense  of  several  hundred  dollars  in  order  to  impress  visitors. 
By  this  time  Arthurdale  was  so  well  publicized  and  so  much  on  exhibit 
that  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  felt  bound  to  make  it  as 
perfect  as  possible.  The  wishes  of  the  homesteaders  or  the  self-help  ideas 
of  the  local  sponsors  had  to  take  second  place  to  the  desire  to  make  a 
favorable  impression  on  the  visiting  public.11 

The  first  fifty  homesteaders  were  selected  as  early  as  December, 
1933,  when  they  moved  to  the  project  as  workers.  Although  from  among 
the  stranded  miners,  they  represented  a  select  group,  despite  Mrs. 
Roosevelt's  wishes  to  settle  a  representative  group.  The  prospective 
homesteaders  were  selected  only  after  physical  examinations,  an  inter- 
view with  a  social  worker,  and  the  completion  of  an  eight-page  question- 
naire. Education,  physical  fitness,  attitudes,  ambitions,  and  agricultural 
abilities  were  all  considered.  West  Virginia  University  assisted  in  the  se- 
lection process,  basing  the  selection  partially  on  such  practical  farming 
tests  as  seed  selection  and  animal  judging.12  A  critic  of  the  rigid  require- 
ments for  settlers  complained:  "Probably  there  are  a  lot  of  'poor  risks' 
out  on  Scott's  Run.  Probably  their  bellies  are  just  as  hungry  as  those  of 
the  good  risks."  ^ 

11  Stout,  "The  New  Homesteaders,"  pp.  6-7;  Rice,  "Footnote  on  Arthurdale,"  p. 
414. 

™  U.S.  Department  of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  "Subsistence-Homestead 
Movement  under  National  Recovery  Act,"  Monthly  Labor  Review,  XXXVII  ( 1933), 
1329;  Mary  Meek  Atkeson,  "Too  Many  Hopes,"  Country  Gentleman,  CV  (Dec., 
1935),  38. 

13  T.  R.  Carskadon,  "Hull  House  in  the  Hills,"  New  Republic,  LXXIX  (1934), 
313. 


Arthurdale  245 

Because  of  delays  in  construction  the  prospective  homesteaders  at 
Arthurdale  saw  their  long-awaited  day  of  moving  constantly  postponed, 
from  Christmas  to  March  to  May  to  June  and  even  July.  Nevertheless, 
on  February  26,  1934,  M.  L.  Wilson  formally  presented  an  uncom- 
pleted Arthurdale  to  the  homesteaders  during  a  driving  snowstorm. 
Also  present  and  speaking  was  Representative  Jennings  Randolph, 
who  accepted  for  the  homesteaders  and  excused  the  delay  and  early 
mistakes  as  inevitable  in  a  new  undertaking.  On  June  7,  1934,  Arthur- 
dale  celebrated  its  formal  opening,  although  the  fifty  homes  were  hardly 
finished  and  were  not  yet  occupied.  Speaking  at  the  opening  was  Mrs. 
Roosevelt,  who  also  conversed  with  the  homesteaders  in  the  Arthur 
mansion.  Among  the  important  guests  in  the  large  crowd  were  Ber- 
nard Baruch  and  Mrs.  Harold  Ickes.  Mrs.  Roosevelt  was  anxious  to 
secure  Baruch's  support  for  some  educational  experimentation.  The 
grateful  homesteaders,  already  blessed  by  the  fruits  of  labor  and  a 
bountiful  soil  if  not  by  completed  homes,  presented  Mrs.  Roosevelt 
with  a  big  bunch  of  onions  and  radishes.14 

By  July  15,  1934,  forty-three  of  the  first  fifty  homes  were  occupied. 
Construction  of  150  more  was  already  planned.  Ickes  reported  that  the 
average  unit  cost  of  the  first  houses  and  outbuildings  was  $4,880,  which 
was  much  above  earlier  plans  for  something  like  $2,500  but  much  below 
the  estimates  of  several  critics,  who  had  envisioned  a  cost  of  up  to 
$10,000.  Ickes'  report  was  probably  based  only  upon  the  expenses  of 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  excluded  costs  attributable 
to  other  agencies,  such  as  the  Civil  Works  Administration.  The  final 
accounting  at  Arthurdale  showed  an  average  cost  of  $16,377  for  each 
family  unit,  which  included  all  expenditures  for  community  facilities 
and  for  management.  The  actual  cost  of  the  homes  and  outbuildings 
averaged  $8,665,  but  this  average  included  forty  larger  and  more  ex- 
pensive houses  constructed  later  by  the  Resettlement  Administration. 
The  first  homesteader  at  Arthurdale  was  an  unmarried  mechanical 
engineer  who  had  worked  for  the  Friends  and  who  homesteaded  in 
order  to  teach  woodworking  to  the  miners.  He  planned  to  have  his 
mother  and  father  live  with  him.15 

From  July,  1934,  to  May,  1935,  when  the  Resettlement  Administra- 

14  Stout,  "The  New  Homesteaders,"  p.  65;  New  York  Times,  June  8,  1934,  p.  6. 

15  New  York  Times,  July  15,  1934,  sec.  2,  p.  12;  Farm  Security  Administration, 
"Arthurdale:  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs,"  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Stout, 
"The  New  Homesteaders,"  p.  7. 


246  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion  inherited  the  subsistence  homesteads,  the  activity  at  Arthur  dale 
centered  on  the  construction  of  seventy-five  additional  homes  and  on 
the  educational  plans  of  Mrs.  Roosevelt.  The  new  houses  did  not  suffer 
from  the  same  waste  and  haste  as  the  first  fifty.  Like  the  first  ones, 
they  were  located  on  subsistence  plots  of  from  two  to  five  acres,  but 
were  of  combined  concrete-block  and  frame  construction.  Only  six  had 
basements.  They  were  one  and  one-half  story  buildings,  with  hardwood 
floors,  brass  fixtures,  paneled  walls,  and  furnaces.  Although  they  also 
had  individual  wells,  they,  unlike  the  first  fifty,  had  a  central  sewage 
disposal  system.  These  homes  were  reported  to  resemble  an  expensive 
suburban  housing  project  except  for  their  unique  spacing.16  In  January, 
1935,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  allotted  an  added  $900,- 
000  to  Arthurdale  for  the  new  houses  and  the  school  buildings.  It  also 
admitted  a  loss  of  $500,000,  which  it  frankly  attributed  to  experimenta- 
tion and  errors  in  judgment.  Not  explained  was  the  fact  that  the  largest 
error  in  judgment  was  made  by  Howe  in  ordering  the  fifty  prefabricated 
houses.  The  costs  were  again  defended  by  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  also  by 
her  ally  at  Arthurdale,  Bernard  Baruch.17 

In  the  very  first  plans  for  Arthurdale  a  school  was  contemplated, 
since  the  community  was  to  be  relatively  isolated  and  since  the  added 
school  population  would  have  been  an  impossible  burden  on  the  local 
school  system,  which  gained  no  increase  in  tax  receipts  from  the  un- 
taxable  homestead  property.  As  early  as  January,  1934,  Mrs.  Roosevelt 
took  over  the  direction  of  the  educational  plans  for  Arthurdale  and, 
working  both  within  and  without  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads, eventually  made  Arthurdale  the  site  of  an  ambitious  experiment 
in  progressive  education.  By  January,  1934,  Mrs.  Roosevelt  had  con- 
tacted Miss  Elsie  Clapp  of  the  famed  Ballard  Memorial  School  near 
Louisville,  Kentucky,  asking  her  to  direct  the  Arthurdale  school  pro- 
gram. By  June  she  and  Miss  Clapp  had  formulated  some  very  ambitious 
plans.  The  school  at  Arthurdale  was  to  consist  of  several  units  and  was 
to  employ  up  to  twenty-one  faculty  members,  all  for  a  community  of 
no  more  than  200  families.  The  projected  cost  was  approximately 
$163,800,  much  above  the  subsistence  homesteads  budget.  As  a  result 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  used  her  own  money  to  pay  Miss  Clapp's  salary  and 

16  Farm  Security  Administration,  "Arthurdale:    Final  Report  of  Project  Costs," 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Rice,  "The  Fuller  Life  at  Reedsville,"  p.  26. 

17  New  York  Times,  Jan.  18,  1935,  p.  25;  Jan.  24,  1935,  p.  14;  Jan.  29,  1935,  p.  23. 


Arthurdale  247 

successfully  appealed  to  Bernard  Baruch  and  others  for  part  of  the 
funds  for  the  school.  Their  advisers  included  John  Dewey,  Dean  Wil- 
liam Russell  of  Teachers  College,  Columbia  University,  Fred  }.  Kelly 
of  the  United  States  Office  of  Education,  and,  later,  Eugene  E.  Agger 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration.  The  Department  of  Education  at 
West  Virginia  University  joined  in  the  planning  and  was  responsible 
for  the  plans  covering  the  school  buildings.  In  the  fall  of  1934  Miss 
Clapp  began  the  first  school  year  with  classes  in  the  Arthur  mansion 
and  in  the  community  building.  Six  new  school  buildings  were  under 
construction.18 

The  six  school  buildings  at  Arthurdale  were  a  cause  of  much  criticism. 
The  buildings,  which  were  completed  in  1936,  were  constructed  in  a 
row.  There  were  an  administration  building,  a  gymnasium,  a  nursery 
school,  a  primary  department  an  elementary  school,  and  a  high  school, 
all  costing  82-53.102. 96. 19  The  buildings  were  planned  for  adults  as  well 
as  children,  with  the  gymnasium  and  auditorium  being  used  for  most  of 
the  community  activities.  Miss  Clapp,  who  had  degrees  from  Vassar, 
Barnard,  and  Columbia,  lived  in  a  specially  constructed  house  and  di- 
rected the  unusual  school  program,  which  was  to  begin  before  a  child 
was  born  and  was  to  continue  throughout  his  life.  Pre-  and  postnatal 
instruction  was  given  by  the  project  nurse  and  doctor.  By  the  age  of 
two  or  three  the  child  graduated  into  a  special  nursery  which  was  di- 
rected by  the  former  head  of  the  Harriet  Johnson  Nursery  School  in 
New  York  City.  In  terms  of  both  equipment  and  results  the  Arthurdale 
nursery  became  a  widely  known  model.  Here  the  small  children  used 
wooden  blocks  constructed  in  the  shop  of  the  high  school  and  learned 
self-expression  through  creative  painting.  Since  by  agreement  with 
state  and  county  school  boards,  the  elementary  and  secondary  schools 
were  permitted  to  teach  a  "new  economic  and  social  freedom."  the 
elementary  grades  were  based  on  example,  discussion,  and  actual  work 
rather  than  on  formal  teaching,  which  was  completely  excluded  along 
with  set  examinations.  The  high  school,  which  emphasized  vocational 
and  shop  work,  had  only  forty-seven  members  the  first  year  and  for 
a  time  failed  to  secure  accreditation  in  the  West  Virginia  school  system. 

15  M.  L.  Wilson  to  Ickes,  Jan.  27,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives;  Pynchon  to 
Ickes,  June  20,  19-34,  ibid.;  Pickett,  For  More  tJian  Bread,  pp.  -57-59. 

'•*  Farm  Security  Administration.  "Arthurdale:  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs," 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


248  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Miss  Clapp  believed  in  the  development  of  natural  instincts  and  a 
positive  outlook.  She  summarized  as  follows:  "We  remove  mental  and 
physical  impediments  and  graft  on  the  things  that  help.  Negative 
thoughts  and  attitudes  do  not  flourish  here.  This  is  virgin  soil  and  to- 
morrow is  another  day."20 

The  progressive  school  at  Arthurdale  was  turned  over  to  the  Preston 
County  school  system  after  two  years  of  private  operation.  At  that  time 
much  of  the  experimentation  ended,  for  many  of  the  parents  had  been 
fearful  that  their  children  were  not  getting  as  good  an  education  as 
children  in  "regular"  schools.  Thus  the  dreams  of  the  private  sponsors 
were  not  realized  for  long,  although  the  nursery  school  was  popular 
with  parents  and  was  continued  with  subsidies  from  the  private  spon- 
sors. Clarence  Pickett,  a  member  of  Mrs.  Roosevelt's  educational  com- 
mittee, decided  that  "the  enthusiasm  of  a  few  people  who  had  thought 
deeply  and  dreamed  long  about  the  possibilities  of  the  right  kind  of 
education  led  in  this  case  to  commitments  which  assumed  more  ex- 
perimental-mindedness  among  the  homesteaders  than  had  yet  de- 
veloped." But  he  also  concluded  that  "none  of  us  who  took  part  in  the 
experiment  has  any  regrets  at  the  amount  of  energy  we  put  into  it."  21 

Closely  connected  with  the  educational  program  were  the  health 
services.  Arthurdale  eventually  contained  a  small  health  center  (a  con- 
verted house ) ,  with  two  beds,  two  doctors,  and  a  nurse.  The  nurse  was 
paid  by  the  Resettlement  Administration,  and,  in  the  beginning,  the 
physician  was  furnished  by  the  American  Friends  Service  Committee. 
Later  a  medical  co-operative  was  inaugurated,  with  monthly  dues  of 
one  dollar  for  those  us  in  5  the  project  physicians.-2 

When  the  Resettlement  Administration  inherited  Arthurdale  in  May, 
1935,  only  125  homes  were  completed  or  near  completion.  Five  of  the 
school  buildings  were  almost  completed.  This  construction  was  left 
under  the  supervision  of  a  New  York  architect  who  had  worked  on  a 
contract  basis  tor  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The  Re- 
settlement Administration,  in  order  to  offer  longer  employment  op- 
portunities to  homesteaders,  deferred  the  construction  by  limiting  em- 
ployment to  402  workers  each  month.  Moreover,  despite  past  failures 

*  Charles  E.  Pynchon,  "School  as  Social  Center,"  New  York  Times,  May  5, 
1935,  sec.  9,  p.  23. 

*  Pickett,  For  More  than  Bread,  pp.  5S-59,  62. 

~  Rice,  "Footnote  on  Arthurdale,"  pp.  416-417;  R.  C.  Williams  to  \V.  W.  Alex- 
ander, Jan.  S,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 


Arthurdale  249 

and  gloomy  prospects  for  employment,  the  Resettlement  Administration 
added  a  third  group  of  forty  homes  to  the  project.  These,  the  most 
expensive  homes  of  all,  were  of  locally  quarried  stone  veneer  over  frame 
construction.  Each  consisted  of  six  rooms  and  the  best  of  conveniences. 
On  the  project  as  a  whole,  which  now  included  165  homesteads,  the 
Resettlement  Administration  added  108  root  cellars  and  56  storage 
houses.  When  thirty-six  individual  wells  in  the  low-lying  areas  had  to  be 
abandoned  because  of  contamination,  the  Resettlement  Administration 
provided  a  central  water  system  for  these  homes  and  for  the  com- 
munity center.  The  school  had  its  own  water  system  and  fireplugs.23 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  continued  her  interest  in  Arthurdale  and  exerted  her  in- 
fluence by  frequent  trips  and  through  a  Committee  on  Arthurdale, 
which  included  Mrs.  Henry  Morgenthau,  Jr.,  and  Clarence  Pickett. 
Pickett  was  retained  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  as  a  con- 
sultant, as  was  Miss  Nancy  Cook. 

Arthurdale,  because  of  the  many  admitted  mistakes  and  the  con- 
flicting groups  trying  to  make  policy,  was  a  boon  for  New  Deal  critics, 
amply  rewarding  the  cynical  or  the  hostile  with  exhibits  of  waste  and 
stupidity.  On  the  other  hand,  the  many  people  sympathetic  with  the 
aims  of  Arthurdale  were  more  likely  to  judge  it  on  the  intentions  of  its 
sponsors  and  thus  overlook  some  of  the  unpleasant  realities  of  Arthur- 
dale  as  a  fact.  For  those  sympathetic  ones  the  idea  of  an  experiment 
was  always  useful  in  explaining  away  early  mistakes  and  excessive 
expenses.  Others  saw  the  end  result  at  Arthurdale  and  were  impressed, 
since  the  completed  Arthurdale  was  a  beautiful  village,  with  pretty  new 
homes,  a  neat  community  center,  and  productive  gardens  and  farms. 
The  following  impression  may  have  been  shared  by  a  majority  of 
casual  visitors: 

The  place  is  beautiful  on  Sundays.  Little  white  homes,  chattering  visitors, 
mountain  scenery  of  the  Allegheny  Plateau.  Visitors  admire  the  hand-made 
furniture  that  Mrs.  Roosevelt  selected,  and  listen  with  awe  to  the  plans  for 
the  school,  the  church,  and  the  community  center.  They  think  it  is  wonder- 
ful the  way  all  the  homesteaders  are  going  to  have  an  opportunity  to  learn 
handicrafts.  They'll  learn  to  make  furniture  and  weave  mats  and  rugs  just 
like  those  in  the  model  homes.  It  all  sounds  so  cozy  and  "early  American." 
The  homes  are  like  little  corners  of  Arcady.24 

33  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report  (Washington,  1936),  pp. 
75-76. 

81  Carskadon,  "Hull  House  in  the  Hills,"  p.  314. 


250  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Other  people  came  looking  only  for  the  mistakes,  and  of  course  they 
found  them.  In  August,  1934,  the  Saturday  Evening  Post  published  an 
expose  on  Arthurdale  that  set  the  pattern  for  all  later  attacks,  while 
causing  acute  embarrassment  to  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads, since  the  article,  although  very  slanted,  was  factually  irrefutable 
on  most  points.  Soon  the  inanities  of  Arthurdale  were  well  known,  in 
fact  were  so  well  known  that  the  whole  story  of  Arthurdale  was  com- 
pletely distorted.  Much  that  was  done  at  Arthurdale  was  pictured  as 
something  resembling  a  joke,  and  the  whole  subsistence  homesteads 
program,  by  generalization,  was  subjected  to  ridicule.  The  following 
inanities  became  classics,  bandied  about  for  years  by  reporters  and 
always  worth  a  laugh:  the  basements  with  countless  foundations;  the 
paper-thin  walls  of  Howe's  "famous  fifty";  the  expensive  grease  traps; 
the  copper  plumbing  which,  according  to  one  report,  was  ruined  by 
the  homesteaders'  driving  nails  into  the  floor;  the  wells  that  became 
contaminated;  the  pumps  that  froze;  the  six  school  buildings  for  only 
400  children;  the  leaking  roofs;  the  high  school  that  was  not  accredited; 
the  fifty  halters  purchased  for  fifty  cows  that  never  arrived;  the  eight 
wells  which  were  never  used  because  of  a  change  in  plans;  the  barn 
foundations  that  were  placed  too  close  to  the  houses  and  then  covered 
with  soil;  the  dead  wild  grapevines  wound  on  trellises;  the  imported 
rhododendron  in  an  area  rich  with  rhododendron;  and  the  estimated 
cost  of  over  $10,000  per  home  when  a  new  two-story  brick  dwelling 
and  a  thirty-five-acre  farm  in  the  same  area  were  selling  for  $5,000.25 

Since  Arthurdale  was  the  most  publicized  of  the  subsistence  home- 
steads communities,  since  it  was  the  first  New  Deal  community  to  be 
initiated,  and  since  it  was  an  avowed  experiment  and  demonstration  in 
government  planning,  it  perhaps  was  inevitable  that  it  would  become 
a  symbol  of  the  whole  subsistence  homesteads  program  and,  in  critical 
hands,  of  all  government  planning  and  experimentation,  despite  the 
fact  that  Arthurdale  suffered  most  from  a  lack  of  detailed  planning. 
The  first  congressional  displeasure  centered  on  Arthurdale  and  the 
contemplated  Post  Office  factory.  From  then  on  Arthurdale  was  al- 
ways brought  into  any  discussion  of  New  Deal  communities,  always 
serving  as  a  convenient  example  to  use  in  attacking  the  whole  program. 
When  the  American  Liberty  League  condemned  all  New  Deal  experi- 
mentation, it  quite  naturally  used  Arthurdale  as  an  example  of  "what 

25  Stout,  "The  New  Homesteaders,"  pp.  6-7;  Bolles,  "Resettling  America,"  pp. 
343-344;  Rice,  "The  Fuller  Life  at  Arthurdale,"  p.  27. 


Arthurdale  251 

happens  when  misguided  zealots  obtain  access  to  the  public  Treas- 
ury." 2G  For  that  reason  the  inanities  of  Arthurdale,  even  though  minor 
and  over  exploited,  had  great  importance  in  the  realm  of  anti-New  Deal 
propaganda. 

The  greatest  problem  at  Arthurdale,  from  completion  of  the  first 
fifty  homes  until  World  War  II,  was  the  lack  of  opportunities  for 
employment,  a  problem  shared  by  each  of  the  other  stranded  com- 
munities. The  earliest  plans  for  Arthurdale  contemplated  some  newly 
decentralized  industry  to  supplement  the  subsistence  farming  and  the 
handicraft  work.  Even  as  the  construction  began,  the  plans  for  in- 
dustry appeared  solved  by  the  announcement  about  a  contemplated 
Post  Office  factory,  but,  as  already  recounted,  this  plan  was  blocked 
by  Congress.  Thus,  until  1936,  the  only  sources  of  industrial  employ- 
ment at  Arthurdale  were  in  the  handicraft  shops  of  the  Mountaineer 
Craftsmen's  Co-operative  Association,  which  was  located  in  the  com- 
munity center.  The  loom,  the  forge,  and  the  furniture  factory  gave 
continuous  employment  to  some  eleven  or  twelve  craftsmen.  Mean- 
while, most  of  the  men  found  employment  in  the  continuing  construc- 
tion program,  either  on  the  new  homes  or  the  school  buildings.  The 
subsistence  plots,  though  providing  garden  crops  and  permitting  hogs, 
chickens,  and  a  cow,  never  replaced  the  need  for  a  cash  income. 

In  1934  Mrs.  Roosevelt  took  the  employment  problem  at  Arthurdale 
to  Gerard  Swope  of  the  General  Electric  Company.  He  promised  to 
operate  a  vacuum-cleaner  assembly  plant  at  Arthurdale.  The  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  drew  up  an  agreement  with  a  General 
Electric  affiliate,  the  Electric  Vacuum  Cleaner  Company  of  Cleveland, 
and  began  the  construction  of  a  factory  near  the  railroad  that  cut 
through  the  northern  section  of  the  Arthur  estate.  The  factory  was  to 
be  leased  to  the  company  for  five  to  ten  years,  and  homesteaders  were 
to  travel  to  Cleveland  for  training.  Completed  in  October,  1935,  the 
factory  had  to  remain  idle.  The  contemplated  operation  was  blocked 
by  a  ruling  of  the  Comptroller  General  which  forbade  the  use  of  Re- 
settlement Administration  funds  for  the  support  of  private  industry. 
In  January,  1936,  the  Resettlement  Administration  lent  the  Arthur- 
dale  Association,  a  co-operative  made  up  of  homesteaders,  $12,804.47 
to  enable  it  to  purchase  the  factory  from  the  government.  After  this 
paper  transaction,  the  factory  was  finally  opened  on  June  23,  1936. 
The  Electric  Vacuum  Cleaner  Company  leased  the  factory  from  the 

26  New  York  Times,  Oct.  28,  1935,  p.  2. 


252  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

association  at  a  set  monthly  rental.  Only  homesteaders  had  preference 
in  employment.  In  1936  the  factory  gave  employment  to  approximately 
thirty  homesteaders,  with  a  minimum  wage  of  forty  cents  an  hour  for 
men.  Yet,  in  one  year,  the  enterprise  was  a  financial  failure,  and  the 
company  canceled  its  lease.  The  Arthurdale  Association  had  to  begin 
bargaining  with  other  companies  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  new  occupant 
for  the  factory.27 

Several  nonindustrial  enterprises  at  Arthurdale  were  also  unsuccess- 
ful or  nearly  so.  In  1934  the  Arthurdale  Association  purchased  442 
acres  of  extra  farm  land.  On  this,  plus  about  100  acres  already  on  the 
project,  the  association  established  a  co-operative  dairy  and  crop  farm. 
Despite  thirty-three  purebred  Jersey  cattle,  this  co-operative  venture 
lost  money,  probably  because  it  paid  industrial  rates  for  farm  work. 
In  1939  the  farm  was  leased  to  two  homesteaders  and,  in  private  opera- 
tion, returned  a  profit  for  a  few  years.  A  poultry  farm  was  operated 
co-operatively  from  1936  to  1939,  when  it  was  turned  over  to  private 
enterprise  because  of  heavy  losses.  In  January,  1936,  the  association, 
using  a  loan  from  the  Resettlement  Administration,  opened  a  co- 
operative store  which  gave  employment  to  four  homesteaders.  Despite 
reports  of  excessively  high  prices  during  its  early  years,  the  store 
managed  to  survive  until  the  project  was  liquidated.  Besides  the  store, 
the  association  operated  a  gristmill  that  was  never  successful  and  a 
gasoline  station  that  was  ruined  by  the  war.  It  also  operated  a  barber- 
shop and  a  tearoom.  In  1936  one  of  the  more  publicized  ventures  at 
Arthurdale  was  planned.  The  old,  sturdy  Arthur  mansion  was  torn 
down  and  replaced,  at  a  cost  of  nearly  $28,000,  by  a  modern  inn  of 
comparable  size.  The  inn  suffered  from  the  wartime  restrictions  on 
travel  and  was  leased  to  an  airplane  company.  These  agricultural  and 
retail  co-operatives  could  provide  employment  for  only  approximately 
thirty-two  people,  many  of  whom  were  women,  girls,  or  young  boys.28 

In  1937  the  Phillips- Jones  Corporation  occupied  the  vacated  vacuum- 

27  Pynchon  to  Ickes,  Aug.  21,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives;  Committee  for 
Economic   Recovery,    Resettled   Communities    Committee,    Arthurdale:   A   Partial 
Pattern  for  the  New  American  Way  of  Life,  a  report  prepared  for  President 
Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  (n.p.,  Jan.,  1937),  pp.  19-20;  New  York  Times,  April  27, 
1936,  p.  40. 

28  Committee  for  Economic  Recovery,  Arthurdale,  pp.  5,  15-18;  Rice,  "Footnote 
on  Arthurdale,"  p.  416;  C.R.,  76th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1939,  pp.  3861-3862;  "Eden 
Liquidated;    Arthurdale   Plants    Sold;    Tenants    Buying   Homes,"    Business   Week 
(July  27,   1946),  pp.  22,  26;  Resettlement  Administration  Weekly  Information 
Report  no.  38,  April  13,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


Arthurdale  253 

cleaner  factory  and  began  a  collar  factory.  It  manufactured  and  cut 
shirts  in  a  Pennsylvania  factory  and  then  sent  them  to  Arthurdale 
for  final  assembly,  employing  up  to  sixty  homesteaders  during  its 
brief  tenancy.  It  closed  its  plant  allegedly  because  of  labor  troubles 
in  Pennsylvania,  leaving  Arthurdale  with  an  empty  factory  once 
again.29  In  April,  1939,  the  most  ambitious  industrial  enterprise  yet 
attempted  at  Arthurdale  began  operations.  With  a  loan  of  $325,000 
from  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  the  Arthurdale  Co-operative 
Association  formed  an  Arthurdale  Farm  Equipment  Corporation  and 
constructed  a  tractor  assembly  plant,  which  was  managed  by  the  Ameri- 
can Co-operatives,  Incorporated.  This  was  one  of  the  eight  major  in- 
dustries financed  by  the  Farm  Security  Administration  and  was  con- 
temporaneous with  the  five  hosiery  mills  at  other  projects.  The  venture 
at  Arthurdale  was  the  largest  financial  failure  of  them  all,  losing 
$106,380.21  in  one  year  while  employing  only  approximately  twenty- 
five  homesteaders.  The  factory  assembled  hybrid  tractors  by  using 
parts  purchased  from  various  tractor  companies,  but  never  found  a 
large  enough  market  for  its  product  to  sustain  operations.30  It  closed 
in  April,  1940,  after  also  assembling  a  few  Rust  Brothers  cotton  pickers. 
At  the  time  it  closed,  only  one  industry  remained  at  Arthurdale.  The 
Mountaineer  Craftsmen's  Co-operative  Association  continued  to  pro- 
duce handicrafts  and  had  adopted  mass-production  methods  in  a  new 
furniture  factory  (the  third  factory  for  Arthurdale).  Since  it  could 
offer  employment  to  only  a  few  homesteaders,  the  situation  in  1940 
remained  desperate,  despite  all  the  efforts  of  the  Farm  Security  Ad- 
ministration and  the  local  co-operative  associations. 

With  the  increasing  prosperity  of  1941,  Mrs.  Roosevelt  and  her 
Committee  on  Arthurdale  succeeded  in  getting  the  best  industry  thus 
far  for  Arthurdale.  The  Brunswick  Radio  and  Television  Company  of 
New  York  agreed  to  establish  a  radio  cabinet  factory  in  one  of  the 
Arthurdale  factories,  thereby  utilizing  the  woodworking  ability  of 
many  of  the  homesteaders.  In  1942  it  was  employing  approximately 
100  people  and  was  a  financial  success  until  wartime  scarcities  forced 
it  to  close.  By  this  time  employment  was  no  longer  a  problem  at  Arthur- 
dale,  for  with  the  coming  of  the  war  the  mines  reopened.  Even  more 
important,  the  furniture  factory,  the  old  vacuum-cleaner  factory,  and 

29  Rice,  "Footnote  on  Arthurdale,"  p.  415. 

80  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  pp.  1759-1760. 


254  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  tractor  assembly  plant,  plus  the  inn,  were  all  leased  by  the  Hoover 
Aircraft  Corporation  for  manufacturing  defense  materials.  Suddenly 
there  were  too  many  jobs  and  too  few  homesteaders.31 

As  a  completed  village,  Arthurdale  included  165  homes  and  related 
outbuildings  situated  on  their  plots  of  from  two  to  five  acres.  The  com- 
munity center  included  the  large  community  building,  the  forge,  the 
co-operative  store,  barbershop,  weaving  room,  furniture-display  room, 
the  administrative  building,  and  the  filling  station.  On  a  hillside  was  the 
inn.  In  addition,  there  were  the  six  school  buildings,  the  three  factories, 
the  health  center,  the  gristmill,  and  the  farms.  This  all  cost,  by  1943, 
the  large  sum  of  $2,744,724.09,  or  $15,635  for  each  homestead.32  Yet, 
even  by  1940,  the  average  income  of  each  Arthurdale  family  was  only 
$467  a  year.33  Thus,  even  though  the  government  could  never  expect 
to  sell  the  homesteads  at  cost,  it  also  could  not  sell  the  homes  to  the 
homesteaders  at  anything  near  the  existing  value.  To  have  sold  the 
homes  to  the  homesteaders  according  to  their  ability  to  pay  would  have 
necessitated  a  virtual  gift  on  the  part  of  the  government.  Therefore, 
the  homesteads  were  rented,  with  any  future  sale  depending  upon  in- 
creased economic  opportunities,  which  never  came  until  the  war. 

From  1936  there  were  plans  for  turning  Arthurdale  over  to  a  home- 
stead association  as  soon  as  there  was  full  employment.  But  as  one 
enterprise  after  another  failed,  the  homesteaders  practically  lost  hope 
of  ownership.  A  homestead  association  was  formed  but  never  received 
title  to  the  homesteads.  Meanwhile  the  homesteaders  had  to  make 
rent  payments  from  their  limited  incomes.  As  early  as  1936,  Bernard 
Baruch  took  the  lead  in  advocating  lenient  terms  for  the  homesteaders, 
since  they  had  been  given  unfulfilled  promises  of  employment  and 
ownership.  He  asked:  "Does  anybody  still  think  that  any  homesteader 
can  make  a  living  for  himself  and  his  family  on  a  five-acre  lot?"  34  The 
government  heeded  such  pleas.  By  1940  the  average  monthly  rent  at 
Arthurdale  was  only  $9.99. 

Even  though  without  employment  or  substantial  incomes,  the  home- 
steaders at  Arthurdale  were  well  cared  for.  They  had  model  homes,  a 

31 J.  M.  G.  to  Mason  Barr,  July  26,  1941,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  "Eden 
Liquidated,"  p.  25;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1760. 
z- Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1119. 

33  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1941,  76th  Cong.,  3d 
Sess.,  1940,  pp.  974-975. 

34  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  to  Tugwell,  May  6,  1936,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 


Arthurdale  255 

model  school,  excellent  recreational  facilities,  and  a  governmental  land- 
lord that  was  never  harsh.  They  also  enjoyed,  or  suffered,  a  nation- 
wide notoriety.  No  other  community  of  its  size  was  so  publicized  in 
newspapers  all  over  the  country.  No  other  community  was  visited  so 
frequently  by  the  President's  wife.  Nowhere  else  did  the  First  Lady  so 
often  join  in  the  local  square  dancing  in  the  school  gymnasium.  At 
no  other  small  community  did  the  President  of  the  United  States 
deliver  the  high  school  commencement  address,  as  did  President  Roose- 
velt at  Arthurdale  in  1938  (Mrs.  Roosevelt  attended  and  spoke  at 
each  commencement  from  1936  through  1941).  Yet  all  the  publicity 
and  the  constant  stream  of  visitors  had  its  drawbacks.  One  mountaineer 
was  reported  to  have  exclaimed:  "Got  so  a  man  couldn't  set  down  to 
his  sow  belly  and  turnip  greens  without  some  stranger  peeking  in  at 
the  window  or  walking  in  to  ask  fool  questions."35 

In  1942,  after  employment  increased,  Arthurdale  was  readied  for 
sale  to  individual  homesteaders  rather  than  to  a  homestead  associa- 
tion. The  first  sales  were  based  on  income  and  a  fair  evaluation,  with 
no  down  payment  required.  Some  houses  sold  for  as  low  as  $750,  and 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  frankly  estimated  that  all  the  home- 
steads would  sell  for  only  $175,000,  less  than  7  per  cent  of  the  total 
cost  of  the  community  or  less  than  13  per  cent  of  the  total  costs  of  the 
homesteads  exclusive  of  all  community  and  public  facilities.36  Just  as 
the  sales  were  commenced,  Arthurdale  was  transferred  to  the  Federal 
Public  Housing  Authority,  which  soon  raised  the  prices  on  the  home- 
steads not  already  contracted  for  sale.  By  1946  only  fifty-five  homes 
remained  unsold,  and  those  were  valued  at  up  to  $6,000  each;  liquida- 
tion was  completed  in  the  next  two  years.  On  June  15,  1946,  the  inn 
and  three  factories,  no  longer  used  for  war  materials,  were  sold  to  the 
Belfort  Corporation  of  Baltimore  for  the  manufacture  of  kitchen  cab- 
inets and  furniture.  They  sold  for  $105,000.37  With  the  final  liquidation, 
the  government  at  last  relinquished  one  of  the  most  embarrassing  ex- 
periments in  its  history. 

35  "Eden  Liquidated,"  p.  29. 

30  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  the  Agricultural  Appropriation  Bill  for  1943,  77th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1942, 
pp.  224-225;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  p.  1119;  Farm  Se- 
curity Administration,  "Arthurdale:  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs,"  R.G.  96,  Na- 
tional Archives. 

37  "Eden  Liquidated,"  pp.  22,  29. 


X  XI 


Jersey  Homesteads— A  Triple 
Co-operative 


IT  is  a  long  way  from  Scott's  Run  to  the  Jewish  garment  district 
of  Manhattan,  long  not  so  much  in  terms  of  miles  as  of  cultural  dif- 
ferences. But  in  both  areas  the  depression  led  to  hardship  and  to  con- 
certed efforts  at  colonization  upon  the  land,  although  the  background 
of  Jersey  Homesteads  was  entirely  different  from  that  of  Arthurdale. 
In  contrast  to  the  brief,  depression-born  subsistence  homesteads  move- 
ment in  West  Virginia,  the  all  co-operative  Jewish  colony  in  New 
Jersey  was  the  culmination  of  a  long  history  of  Jewish  agricultural  and 
industrial  colonization  in  the  United  States  that  reached  back  beyond 
1881.  In  the  past  efforts  of  Jewish  immigrants  to  go  onto  the  land  and 
in  the  long  and  little-known  efforts  of  Jewish  leaders  to  develop  a 
strong  Jewish  agricultural  community  are  contained  almost  all  the  roots 
of  Jersey  Homesteads.  In  fact,  almost  the  total  program  of  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  the  Resettlement  Administration  had 
been  anticipated  by  the  work  of  Jewish  organizations  in  colonization, 
part-time  farming,  decentralization  of  industry,  rehabilitation,  and 
social  engineering. 

Because  of  numerous  restrictions  on  landownership  and  constant  per- 
secutions and  migrations,  the  ancient  Jew,  a  nomadic  herder  or  a 
farmer,  became,  by  1800,  almost  exclusively  a  city  dweller.  Seven 
colonies  of  Jews  in  South  Russia  in  1804  represented  the  first  modern 

256 


Jersey  Homesteads  257 

attempt  of  Jews  to  become  farmers.  In  1825  an  ambitious  Jewish  refu- 
gee colony  was  planned  for  Grand  Island  in  the  Niagara  River,  but 
never  proceeded  beyond  land  purchase.  Beginning  in  1837,  a  small 
Jewish  colony  of  twelve  families  in  Ulster  County,  New  York,  sur- 
vived for  five  years.  Other  ambitious  back-to-the-land  schemes,  but 
no  real  accomplishment,  culminated  in  the  formation  of  a  Jewish 
Agricultural  Society  in  1856,  which  never  went  farther  than  elaborate 
planning  for  colonies.  After  the  assassination  of  Alexander  II  of 
Russia  in  1881,  a  series  of  pogroms  and  restrictive  laws  forced  thou- 
sands of  Jews  to  emigrate  to  the  United  States  and  other  countries. 
Among  the  intelligentsia  of  these  emigrants  was  an  organized  agrar- 
ian group,  Am  Olam,  which,  beginning  in  1881,  established  several 
abortive  and  a  few  lasting  farm  colonies  in  the  United  States.  A  num- 
ber of  these  featured  collectivist  plans;  all  were  founded  without  pre- 
vious farming  experience,  without  adequate  guidance,  and  without 
sufficient  funds.  The  first  settlement  was  at  Sicily  Island,  Louisiana, 
with  others  following  in  Arkansas,  Kansas,  Colorado,  South  Dakota, 
and  New  Jersey.  Only  the  New  Jersey  colonies  survived.1 

Alliance,  the  first  of  the  New  Jersey  colonies  and  the  first  permanent 
Jewish  agricultural  colony  in  the  United  States,  was  founded  in  1882 
by  about  twenty-five  Jewish  immigrants  from  Russia.  Aided  by  a  newly 
formed  Hebrew  Emigrant  Aid  Society,  they  purchased  1,100  acres  of 
land,  divided  it  into  fifteen-acre  plots,  and  established  small  factories. 
The  Hebrew  Emigrant  Aid  Society  searched  the  West  for  farms  for 
those  other  Jews  determined  to  go  onto  the  land,  but,  as  the  stream 
of  immigration  temporarily  slowed,  soon  went  out  of  existence,  leav- 
ing a  Jewish  author,  Michael  Heilprin,  as  the  father  of  several  later 
colonies.  In  this  first  great  spurt  of  Jewish  colonization,  lasting  from 
1881  to  1888,  enduring  colonies  were  started  in  South  New  Jersey 
at  Norma,  Brotmanville,  Rosenhayn,  Carmel,  Garten  Road,  and  Al- 
liance. The  Jewish  people,  with  their  distinct  communal  proclivities 
and  without  any  real  experience  in  agriculture,  chose  the  colony  or 
community  method  of  agricultural  settlement.  They  also,  even  in  the 
first  settlements,  introduced  factories  into  their  farm  villages.  Mean- 
Jewish  Agricultural  Society,  Jews  in  American  Agriculture:  The  History  of 
Farming  by  Jews  in  the  United  States  (New  York,  1954),  pp.  8,  16,  19,  23-26; 
Philip  Reuben  Goldstein,  Social  Aspects  of  the  Jewish  Colonies  of  South  Jersey 
(New  York,  1921),  p.  12;  Gabriel  Davidson,  Our  Jewish  Farmers  and  the  Story 
of  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society  (New  York,  1943),  pp.  194-249. 


258  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

while  an  overwhelming  majority  of  the  Jewish  immigrants  settled  in 
the  large  cities  and  became  needleworkers.2 

When  the  heavy  Jewish  migration  resumed  by  1890,  a  wealthy  Euro- 
pean industrialist  and  Jew,  Baron  Maurice  de  Hirsch,  became  so  in- 
terested in  the  plight  of  the  Russian  Jews  that  he  endowed  a  Jewish 
Colonization  Society  which,  from  its  European  headquarters,  aided  in 
the  colonization  of  Jews  in  several  countries.  In  1891  Baron  de  Hirsch 
also  contributed  $2,400,000  to  be  used  exclusively  for  the  aid  of  Jewish 
emigrants  to  the  United  States.  Of  this  sum,  $240,000  was  specifically 
designated  for  farm  colonies,  since  Hirsch  was  a  convinced  agrarian. 
The  executors  of  the  Baron  de  Hirsch  fund  ( American  Jewish  leaders ) 
appointed  an  agricultural  and  industrial  committee  which  early  de- 
cided that  any  new  colonies  should  be  both  agricultural  and  industrial. 
Meanwhile  the  South  Jersey  colonies  were  adopted  and  aided  by  the 
committee,  which  also  made  loans  to  individual  Jews  who  wished  to 
enter  agriculture.  For  its  first  major  endeavor  the  committee  considered 
establishing  either  a  suburban-type  colony  at  Hightstown,  New  Jer- 
sey, or  a  predominantly  agricultural  colony  in  southern  New  Jersey. 
The  latter  plan  was  adopted,  while  a  Jewish  colony  at  Hightstown 
had  to  await  the  New  Deal.3 

To  develop  their  first  farm  colony  the  trustees  of  the  Baron  de  Hirsch 
fund  founded  a  colonization  corporation  which  purchased  5,300  acres 
near  Vineland,  New  Jersey,  and,  in  1892,  began  the  development  of 
what  was  to  become  the  Woodbine  colony.  Sixty  families  were  selected 
for  the  farms,  with  each  being  required  to  contribute  some  small 
sum  as  down  payment.  The  land  was  divided  into  three  parts — a 
central  town,  an  encircling  area  divided  into  fifteen-acre  farmsteads, 
and,  at  the  outskirts,  a  circle  of  pasture  land.  In  the  first  year  sixty- 
four  farmhouses,  valued  at  $600  each,  were  constructed  by  the  corpora- 
tion, and  twenty-five  town  houses  were  constructed  at  a  cost  of  from 
$850  to  $1,300  each.  The  first  factory,  a  cloak  company,  was  opened 
during  the  first  year,  and,  everything  seeming  well  under  way,  all 
aid  from  the  Baron  de  Hirsch  fund  ceased.  This  led  to  a  strike  on  the 

2  Goldstein,  Social  Aspects  of  the  Jewish  Colonies,  pp.  13-17;  Samuel  Joseph, 
History  of  the  Baron  de  Hirsch  Fund — The  Americanization  of  the  Jewish  Im- 
migrant (Philadelphia,  1935),  pp.  5,  8-9;  William  Kirsch,  The  Jew  and  the  Land 
(American  Association  for  Agricultural  Legislation,  Bulletin  no.  7;  Madison,  Wis., 
1920),  p.  12. 

3  Joseph,  History  of  the  Baron  de  Hirsch  Fund,  pp.  11-22,  24,  32-34,  48-50. 


Jersey  Homesteads  259 

part  of  the  farmers,  who  found  poor  soil  and  who  lacked  experience 
in  farming.  They  had  received  a  house,  a  cow  stable,  money  for  cows 
and  chickens,  farm  implements,  seeds,  and  fruit  trees.  For  three  years 
they  were  obligated  for  an  annual  payment  of  only  fifty  dollars,  but 
by  the  end  of  twelve  years  were  to  have  paid  the  full  cost  of  the  farm, 
receiving  fee  simple  ownership  at  an  estimated  cost  of  only  $1,100. 
After  the  strike  the  leases  were  modified,  and  the  colony  entered  a 
long  period  of  supervision  and  direction  from  the  trustees  of  the 
Baron  de  Hirsch  fund,  who  suddenly  discovered  the  magnitude  of 
the  undertaking  at  Woodbine.  Woodbine,  planned  as  a  beginning 
of  the  reconstruction  of  Jewish  life  in  America,  was  the  last  such 
colony  attempted.  The  trustees  of  the  fund  spent  years  of  effort  in 
securing  adequate,  subsidized  industry  for  Woodbine,  presaging  the 
efforts  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  at  Arthurdale  and  else- 
where. Although  the  first  Jewish  agricultural  school  was  established 
at  Woodbine,  the  colony  became  an  industrial  village  with  only  a  few 
farms  surrounding  it.  By  1900  the  population  of  Woodbine  was  1,400.4 
The  efforts  of  the  trustees  of  the  Baron  de  Hirsch  fund  to  establish 
Woodbine,  to  aid  the  older  Jewish  colonies,  and  to  establish  individ- 
ual farmers  led  to  the  formation  of  the  Jewish  Agricultural  and  In- 
dustrial Aid  Society  (since  renamed  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society) 
in  1900  and  to  more  experimentation.  The  original  purposes  of  the 
society  included  the  "removal  of  those  working  in  crowded  metro- 
politan sections  to  agricultural  and  industrial  districts,"  the  granting 
of  loans  to  artisans  seeking  suburban  homes,  the  decentralization  of 
industry,  and  the  encouragement  of  co-operatives.  In  the  first  few  years 
the  society  devoted  much  of  its  efforts  to  unsuccessful  attempts  at 
decentralizing  industry,  especially  in  connection  with  several  of  the 
New  Jersey  colonies.  It  also  attempted  to  found  a  few  new  colonies 
in  the  West,  but  failed  each  time.  By  1909  the  society  became  orientated 
toward  a  lasting  policy  of  aiding  individual  Jewish  farmers.  It  con- 
tinued to  direct  the  settlement  of  individual  back-to-the-landers,  but 
depended  upon  individual  farms  in  community  groups  rather  than  on 
organized  colonies.  It  published  a  farm  magazine  in  Yiddish,  initiated 
an  itinerant  supervisory  program  that  predated  the  United  States  Ex- 
tension Service,  organized  the  first  rural  co-operative  credit  unions  in 
America,  formed  local  Jewish  farm  federations  which  experimented  in 

4  Ibid.,  pp.  52-56,  89. 


260  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

group  purchasing,  organized  test  farms,  made  short-term  rehabilita- 
tion loans,  carried  out  the  first  work  in  rural  sanitation  in  the  United 
States,  and,  in  the  New  Jersey  colonies,  conducted  evening  schools, 
established  libraries,  built  community  halls,  and  supervised  recreation. 
In  fact,  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society,  directed  by  many  of  America's 
best-known  Jewish  leaders,  became  a  miniature  Resettlement  Admin- 
istration. From  only  200  to  400  families  in  1900,  the  Jewish  farm  popula- 
tion grew  to  approximately  5,000  families  in  1910  and,  by  1930,  to 
approximately  16,000  families.  The  work  of  the  Jewish  Agricultural 
Society  was  intended  to  prove  false  the  long-standing  and  bitterly 
resented  allegation  that  Jews  did  not  make  good  farmers.  In  this  it 
succeeded.5 

By  1924  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society  was  seriously  considering 
part-time  farming  as  a  transitory  step  for  Jewish  urbanites  who  even- 
tually desired  to  be  farmers.  From  this  came  plans  for  agro-industrial 
communities,  one  of  the  earlier  precedents  for  subsistence  homesteads. 
In  1926  an  agro-industrial  settlement  was  started  at  Bound  Brook, 
New  Jersey,  by  Jewish  families  who  were  advised  and  assisted  by  the 
Jewish  Agricultural  Society.  By  1929  forty  families  were  living  on 
four-  to  fourteen-acre  tracts  and  commuting  to  their  city  jobs.  In 
1929  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society  decided  to  initiate  a  second  such 
community.  It  purchased  a  tract  near  New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  where 
it  intended  eventually  to  settle  about  twenty-five  families  on  five-  to 
seven-acre  plots.  Cautiously  beginning  the  experiment,  it  constructed 
nine  four-  and  five-room  houses  which  the  settlers  helped  plan.  The 
first  homesteaders  contributed  about  one-fourth  the  value  of  their 
homesteads  as  a  down  payment.  Although  further  expansion  was 
curtailed  because  of  the  depression,  the  society  continued  to  believe 
that  the  idea  was  sound  and  welcomed  the  support  given  to  a  very 
similar  idea  by  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt  in  1931  in  his  early  advocacy  of 
subsistence  homesteads.6 

In  the  back-to-the-land  movement  of  the  depression  the  Jewish 
Agricultural  Society  was  swamped  with  applications  for  aid  in  locating 

5  Ibid.,  pp.  120-121,  129;  Goldstein,  Social  Aspects  of  the  Jewish  Colonies,  pp. 
25-28;  Davidson,  Our  Jewish  Farmers,  pp.  19,  24,  29,  36,  75;  Jewish  Agricultural 
Society,  Jews  in  American  Agriculture,  pp.  35,  38-41. 

6 Jewish  Agricultural  Society,  Annual  Report,  1929  (New  York,  [1930]),  pp. 
8-10;  Annual  Report,  1930  (New  York,  [1931]),  pp.  10-12;  Annual  Report,  1931 
(New  York,  [1932]),  p.  10. 


Jersey  Homesteads  261 

and  buying  farms,  but  was  handicapped  by  a  lack  of  funds.  Yet  its 
long  work  in  directing  farm  settlement,  in  granting  farm  credit,  and 
in  part-time  farming  quickly  became  a  part  of  the  New  Deal  program. 
One  of  its  members.  Henry  Morgenthau,  Jr.,  became  the  first  director 
of  the  Farm  Credit  Administration.  In  New  York  City  the  back-to-the- 
land  idea  captured  the  minds  of  many  Jewish  leaders  and  of  many  idle 
garmentworkers.  Against  the  cautious  advice  of  the  Jewish  Agricultural 
Society,  several  ill-conceived  farm  colonies  were  attempted,  includ- 
ing the  short-lived  Sunrise  Community  in  Michigan.  This  movement 
also  led  to  Jersey  Homesteads,  which,  because  of  its  collective  features, 
was  viewed  hopefully  but  with  some  skepticism  by  the  Jewish  Agri- 
cultural Society,  since  many  former  such  colonies  had  failed.  If  Jersey 
Homesteads  had  followed  the  pattern  of  the  other,  less-collectivized 
industrial  homesteads,  it  would  have  been  a  direct  extension  of  the 
two  agro-industrial  communities  of  the  Jewish  Agricultural  Society. 

Benjamin  Brown,  the  immediate  father  of  Jersey  Homesteads,  was 
a  Jewish  emigrant  from  the  Ukraine.  Coming  to  the  United  States  in 
1901  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  worked  his  way  through  college  and  be- 
came an  enthusiastic  organizer  of  rural  co-operatives,  beginning  with 
the  Central  Utah  Poultry  Exchange  in  1919.  By  1925  he  was  managing 
a  distribution  organization  in  New  York  City  which  served  several 
Western  farm  co-operatives  and  had  an  annual  business  of  $12,000,000. 
As  a  complement  to  his  enthusiasm  for  farm  co-operatives,  Brown  had 
long  desired  to  establish  co-operative  agricultural  and  industrial  colo- 
nies for  the  Jewish  needleworkers  of  New  York  City.  In  1928  Brown 
was  a  member  of  a  delegation  of  Americans  which  traveled  to  Russia 
to  help  in  the  organization  of  a  distribution  system  in  Biro-Bidjan,  the 
all- Jewish  colony  in  the  Soviet  Union.  Also  on  the  trip  was  M.  L. 
Wilson,  who  sympathized  with  Brown's  desire  to  remove  the  garment- 
workers  to  the  country.7 

Many  Jews  saw  the  country  as  a  means  to  escape  the  criticism  so 
often  leveled  against  the  Jews  because  of  their  concentration  in  urban 
areas  and  because  of  their  participation  in  highly  competitive  com- 
mercial and  financial  occupations.  Thus,  in  June,  1933,  leaders  of  three 
Jewish  labor  bodies,  the  Workmen's  Circle,  the  United  Hebrew  Trades, 

7  George  Weller,  "Land  of  Milk  and  Honey,"  Literary  Digest,  CXXIV  ( Aug. 
14,  1937),  14;  Ralph  F.  Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  Saturday  Eve- 
ning Post,  CCX  (Feb.  5,  1938),  7,  34. 


262  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

and  the  National  Jewish  Workers'  Alliance,  were  willing  to  meet  in  a 
conference  in  New  York  City  to  study  Benjamin  Brown's  back-to-the- 
land  proposals.  The  conference  resulted  in  the  formation  of  the  Pro- 
visional Commission  for  Jewish  Farm  Settlements  in  the  United  States, 
with  Brown  as  chairman.  The  commission,  which  in  addition  to  support 
from  labor  organizations  included  among  its  members  Rabbi  Stephen 
S.  Wise,  Isador  Lubin,  Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  and, 
later,  Albert  Einstein,  planned  to  give  form  and  direction  to  the  back- 
to-the-land  movement.  Jersey  Homesteads,  which  became  its  first 
effort,  was  planned  as  the  first  of  a  series  of  similar  colonies,  al- 
though no  others  were  ever  actually  attempted.8 

With  the  announcement  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program, 
Benjamin  Brown  and  his  commission  applied  for  a  loan  of  $500,000 
from  M.  L.  Wilson  and  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The 
plan  proposed  by  Brown  was  for  a  colony  of  200  skilled  Jewish  needle- 
workers,  who  were  to  become  self-sustaining  through  subsistence  farm- 
ing combined  with  seasonal  employment  in  a  co-operative  garment 
factory.  Small  individual  homestead  plots  were  to  be  supplemented 
by  a  community  truck  garden,  dairy,  and  poultry  plant,  all  operated 
co-operatively.  Completing  the  circle  of  co-operative  activities  was 
to  be  a  community  store  to  sell  the  community-produced  products. 
The  cost  of  such  a  colony,  including  the  factory,  was  estimated  at 
$600,000,  with  $100,000  to  be  provided  by  the  200  homesteaders,  who 
were  to  contribute  $500  each.  After  investigation,  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  approved  Brown's  plans  and  granted  him  the 
loan  in  December,  1933.  Under  the  early  policies,  Brown  and  his 
commission  became  the  Board  of  Directors  of  a  Jersey  Homesteads 
Corporation,  which  was  authorized  to  develop  the  colony  with  a  mini- 
mum of  government  supervision.  Brown  had  already  determined  on 
a  1,200-acre  tract  of  fertile  land  about  five  miles  from  Hightstown, 
New  Jersey,  and  proceeded  to  buy  it  for  $96,000  in  December.  In 
January,  Max  Blitzer,  a  former  assistant  to  the  president  of  William 
and  Mary  College,  was  appointed  project  manager  by  the  local  cor- 
poration. The  first  announcement  of  the  project  resulted  in  800  ap- 

8  New  York  Times,  Jan.  7,  1934,  sec.  9,  p.  12;  "Milk  and  Honey:  Jewish  Needle- 
Workers  Move  into  Highstown  Project,"  Literary  Digest,  CXXI  (June  20,  1936), 
32-33, 


Jersey  Homesteads  263 

plicants  for  homesteads,  despite  the  $500  down  payment.  Jersey  Home- 
steads seemed  well  under  way.9 

As  soon  as  Benjamin  Brown  and  Max  Blitzer  began  to  try  to  turn 
their  plans  for  Jersey  Homesteads  into  a  reality,  troubles  multiplied. 
First  of  all,  Brown  failed  to  maintain  the  support  of  all  the  original 
sponsors,  particularly  those  representing  labor  and  charity  groups. 
Brown  was  also  foiled  in  his  early  plans  to  build  homes  for  $2,000 
or  less,  since  National  Recovery  Administration  codes  had  raised 
prices.  Plans  to  import  inexpensive  cattle  from  drought  areas  were 
thwarted  by  New  Jersey  laws.  Then,  in  May,  the  whole  subsistence 
homesteads  program  was  federalized,  removing  all  actual  control  from 
Brown,  even  though  Blitzer  was  retained  as  project  manager.  Shortly 
thereafter  M.  L.  Wilson,  Brown's  friend,  resigned  from  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads. 

After  the  newly  centralized  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads 
had  reviewed  the  plans  for  Jersey  Homesteads,  another  $327,000  was 
authorized  for  the  project,  and  by  the  fall  of  1934  construction  opera- 
tions were  under  way.  Then  a  new  obstacle  intervened.  Brown's  original 
plan,  from  which  he  would  never  deviate,  called  for  a  private  manu- 
facturer to  operate  the  garment  factory  until  the  homesteaders  were 
settled  and  could  organize  their  own  co-operative.  As  a  result  Brown 
and  Blitzer  began  negotiating  with  private  concerns,  only  to  face  the 
determined  hostility  of  powerful  David  Dubinsky,  head  of  the  Inter- 
national Ladies'  Garment  Workers'  Union.  Dubinsky  opposed  the  sub- 
sidized removal  of  a  factory  and  jobs  from  the  already-harassed 
workers  of  New  York  City.  Since  Dubinsky  remained  adamant,  despite 
attacks  in  the  Jewish  press  and  pleas  from  Einstein  and  others,  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  with  no  guarantee  of  an  adequate 
economic  base  and  with  no  desire  for  another  stranded  community, 
decided  to  suspend  all  operations  at  Hightstown.  Thus  was  the  situa- 
tion stalemated  when  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  Tugwell 
took  over  in  May,  1935.10 

9  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads    (Washington,    1942),  pp.    137-140;   Armstrong,   "Four- 
Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  34;  Lawrence  Lucey,  "A  Cooperative  Town,"  Common- 
weal, XXV  (Dec.  18,  1936),  210. 

10  Lord   and   Johnstone,   A   Place   on   Earth,   pp.    140-142;    Armstrong,   "Four- 
Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  34. 


264  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

At  the  time  the  Resettlement  Administration  took  over  Jersey  Home- 
steads, 120  families  had  already  been  tentatively  selected  as  home- 
steaders, $170,000  had  been  spent,  some  land  had  been  cleared,  the 
cleared  land  was  being  cropped  by  the  New  Jersey  Rural  Rehabilita- 
tion Corporation,  and  one  well  had  been  dug.  The  120  homesteaders 
were  carefully  screened  individuals  who,  since  they  contributed  $500 
of  their  own  money,  never  regarded  themselves  as  recipients  of  special 
government  aid.  The  families  had  been  selected  by  the  sponsors,  with 
final  approval  by  an  official  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads. 
Beyond  the  possession  of  $500,  they  had  to  be  union  members  in 
good  standing,  to  be  sufficiently  skilled  in  their  needle  trades  to  give 
assurance  of  economic  success,  to  have  some  understanding  of  co- 
operative endeavor,  and  to  have  a  family  which  showed  evidence  of 
good  home  management.  The  homesteaders,  accustomed  to  organiz- 
ing in  unions  or  other  groups  to  enforce  their  demands,  desperately 
searching  for  security  and  a  higher  level  of  living,  and  blindly  trusting 
in  the  leadership  of  Brown,  were  determined  that  the  government 
complete  the  original  plans  for  their  colony.  With  the  delays  and  the 
reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  government,  the  homesteaders,  ably 
backed  by  their  sponsors  and  numerous  Jewish  groups,  began  a  long 
and  perfectly  united  struggle  to  force  the  government  to  continue 
with  the  construction  of  Jersey  Homesteads.  With  the  delay  in  the 
spring  of  1935,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was  besieged 
with  letters,  demands  for  action,  and  petitions  from  mass  meetings. 
The  homesteaders  could  cite  the  real  sacrifices  they  had  made  to  raise 
$500  and  the  jobs  they  had  relinquished  because  of  their  prospective 
moves  to  new  homes.11 

The  Resettlement  Administration  early  decided  to  continue  Jersey 
Homesteads,  although  administration  officials  considered  expanding  it 
into  a  larger  housing  project  of  the  greenbelt  type.  Construction  work 
was  resumed  in  August,  1935.  Blitzer  remained  as  project  manager, 
while  Brown  continued  the  negotiations  with  Dubinsky.  But  once  again 
the  project  was  plagued  with  difficulties,  since  the  arguments  between 
Brown  and  Dubinsky  became  more  bitter  than  ever,  with  little  prospect 
for  a  compromise.  A  ruling  in  September  by  the  Comptroller  General 
seemed  to  outlaw  any  factory  not  connected  with  agricultural  pro- 

11  Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  34;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place 
on  Earth,  pp.  146-147. 


Jersey  Homesteads  265 

duction.  In  November  the  factory  plan  was  temporarily  dropped  by 
the  Resettlement  Administration,  and  Blitzer  was  dismissed.  It  was 
rumored  that  the  project  would  be  discontinued  or  that  it  would  not 
include  the  Jewish  homesteaders.  In  any  case  all  construction  ceased. 
On  November  26,  1935,  the  Resettlement  Administration  announced 
that  Jersey  Homesteads  would  be  completed,  but  that  all  responsibility 
for  the  project,  including  the  factory  negotiations,  would  be  assumed 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration.12  This  left  no  assurance  that  the 
original  plans  would  be  followed.  Brown  was  practically  excluded 
from  the  project,  and  the  homesteaders  were  indignant.  Fortunately, 
the  Resettlement  Administration  was  able  to  secure  Dubinsky's  ap- 
proval for  a  garment  factory  at  Hightstown,  provided  it  was  operated 
co-operatively  from  the  very  beginning.  With  this  plan  in  view,  the 
homesteaders  organized  a  Workers'  Aim  Association  for  the  operation 
of  the  factory,  and  the  Resettlement  Administration  announced  that 
it  would  go  on  with  the  original  plans. 

The  first  two  years  at  Jersey  Homesteads  were  years  of  controversy; 
the  two  years  of  construction  were  years  of  extravagance.  Tugwell, 
interested  in  developing  new,  inexpensive  methods  of  prefabricating 
houses,  used  Jersey  Homesteads  as  an  experiment.  In  the  fall  of  1935 
approximately  $200,000  was  spent  in  erecting  factories  to  manufacture 
concrete  slabs  for  the  sides  and  roofs  of  the  homes.  Yet  when  the  first 
such  construction  was  attempted,  the  walls  collapsed.  The  whole 
process  was  abandoned.  The  concrete  slabs  were  actually  used  for 
roofs,  and  the  factory  was  used  to  manufacture  concrete  blocks  until 
it  was  discovered  that  they  cost  about  three  times  as  much  as  those 
purchased  from  private  manufacturers.  This  and  other  early  mistakes 
led  to  an  unpopular  order  to  exclude  all  visitors  from  the  construc- 
tion area  and  to  the  posting  of  guards  at  the  entrances. 

In  January,  1936,  the  Resettlement  Administration  began  an  ac- 
celerated construction  program  at  Hightstown.  Even  though  the  con- 
struction was  delayed  by  procedural  snags  and  Works  Progress  Ad- 
ministration labor  regulations,  the  factory  was  completed  by  May,  and 
several  homes  were  well  under  way.  By  July,  1936,  the  first  seven  of 
the  flat-roofed  bungalows  were  occupied.  Most  of  the  other  193  homes 
were  completed  by  January,  1937.  As  finally  completed,  the  town 

12  New  York  Times,  Aug.  1,  1935,  p.  25,  Aug.  4,  1935,  p.  7,  and  Aug.  6,  1935, 
p.  19;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  145. 


266  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

section  of  Jersey  Homesteads  contained  200  white,  concrete-block 
homes  of  from  five  to  seven  rooms,  located  on  small  homestead  plots 
of  approximately  one  acre.  The  homes,  although  not  beautiful  from 
the  outside,  included  modern  baths,  oil  furnaces  which  air-conditioned 
the  homes  in  summer,  and  electric  refrigerators.  Each  homestead  had 
a  combination  garage  and  workshop.  The  town  contained  the  garment 
factory,  a  modern  sewage  disposal  plant,  a  water  tank  and  water  lines, 
a  town  hall,  which  also  contained  a  day  nursery  and  library,  a  com- 
bination elementary  school  and  community  building,  a  co-operative 
store  and  butcher  shop,  a  clothing  store,  a  tearoom,  and  a  medical 
clinic.13 

Jersey  Homesteads  was  the  only  New  Deal  community  to  be  settled 
by  a  completely  homogeneous  population  with  strong  religious  ties. 
From  the  beginning  the  homesteaders  were  a  cohesive  and  enthusi- 
astic group.  Almost  all  of  foreign  extraction,  inured  to  persecution 
in  Russia  or  other  foreign  lands,  they  had  practically  been  forced  into 
the  garment  industry  on  arriving  in  America,  since  almost  a  third 
were  illiterate,  since  they  arrived  with  less  funds  than  any  other  major 
immigrant  group,  and  since,  in  most  cases,  they  were  skilled  only 
in  the  needle  trades  because  of  occupational  limitations  imposed 
upon  them  in  Russia.  In  the  garment  districts  of  New  York  City  they 
had  not  always  found  the  economic  security  for  which  they  longed. 
The  opportunity  for  a  homestead  in  the  country,  with  their  own  people 
as  neighbors,  seemed  to  be  a  second  migration,  away  from  an  in- 
secure, chaotic,  and  highly  competitive  world  to  a  modern  promised 
land.  They  were  all  as  eager  as  children  to  get  into  their  new  homes. 
As  early  as  May  17,  1936,  the  homesteaders  and  friends  picnicked 
on  the  grounds  of  the  uncompleted  project,  disappointed  only  be- 
cause no  important  Resettlement  Administration  official  attended.14 

The  first  moving  day  at  Jersey  Homesteads  was  on  July  10,  1936, 
when  seven  families  arrived  after  dark.  Their  fifty-mile  trip  from  New 
York  City  was  delayed  by  a  bridge  that  was  out  and  by  the  loss  of 
three  trucks  in  heavy  traffic.  Elaborate  opening  ceremonies  had  to 
be  canceled,  and  the  homesteaders  unloaded  in  the  face  of  a  thunder- 
storm, delayed  by  a  publicity  director  who  insisted  on  recording  the 

13  Lucey,  "A  Cooperative  Town,"  pp.  210-212;  Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dol- 
lar Village,"  p.  6;  New  York  Times,  June  14,  1936,  sec.  12,  pp.  1,  8. 

14  New  York  Times,  May  18,  1936,  p.  6. 


Jersey  Homesteads  267 

event  on  a  newsreel.  With  the  completion  of  the  project,  visitors 
were  allowed,  with  approximately  5,000  inspecting  the  project  on 
July  12.  The  first  settlers  were  soon  greeted  by  the  "doers  of  good" 
or  the  "eager  helpers  and  amiable  zanies,"  depending  on  the  point  of 
view,  that  represented  the  Special  Skills  Division  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration.  There  were  lectures  on  preserving,  co-operation,  and 
drama  and,  to  a  group  of  frugal  Jews,  on  the  necessity  for  economy. 
On  the  day  of  moving  an  interior  decorator  came  from  Washington 
with  a  load  of  furniture  and  set  up  a  model  cottage,  despite  the  fact 
that  homesteaders  were  on  the  way  from  New  York  to  move  into 
every  completed  home.  On  her  departure  a  van  came  to  the  house 
and  unceremoniously  removed  the  model  furniture  and  placed  it  in 
storage.  Soon  after  the  first  homesteads  were  occupied,  a  large  sur- 
prise package  arrived — a  huge  modernistic  statue  depicting  a  woman 
at  a  sewing  machine.15 

The  central  idea  back  of  Jersey  Homesteads  was  co-operation. 
M.  L.  Wilson  stated  that  the  "pattern  of  the  community  itself  will  be 
as  co-operative  as  it  is  possible  to  make  it,"  a  sentiment  that  was  in 
line  with  the  ideas  of  Benjamin  Brown.16  Jersey  Homesteads  was 
planned  as  the  first  triple  co-operative  in  the  new  world,  with  co- 
operative stores,  farm,  and  factory.  Except  for  homeownership  and 
garden  production,  every  aspect  of  Hightstown  was  to  be  co-operative. 
According  to  early  plans,  approximately  40  homesteaders  were  to  work 
the  farms  and  service  the  stores,  while  160  were  to  work  in  the  factory. 
Admittedly,  the  garment  factory  was  the  key  to  the  economic  success 
of  the  community.  But  with  an  aggressive  and  well-knit  band  of 
homesteaders,  it  appeared  that  Jersey  Homesteads  would  surely  be 
one  community  where  co-operative  or  group  activities  would  succeed. 

As  the  first  homesteads  were  completed  in  the  summer  of  1936, 
Benjamin  Brown  was  under  pressure  from  the  homesteaders  to  get  the 
factory  under  way,  since  many  of  the  homesteaders  had  suffered  hard- 
ship because  of  having  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  for  moving  to 
a  colony  that  seemed  ever-longer  delayed  in  construction.  The  factory 
building  was  dedicated  in  an  elaborate  ceremony  on  August  2,  1936. 
Nearly  2,000  people  were  present,  observing  the  optimism  of  the  home- 

15  New  York  Times,  July  11,  1936,  p.  31,  and  July  13,  1936,  p.  31;  Armstrong, 
"Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  pp.  38-39. 

16  M.  L.  Wilson  to  Murray  C.  Lincoln,  Dec.  31,  1936,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 


268  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

steaders,  who  marched  into  the  factory  to  the  music  of  "Stars  and 
Stripes  Forever."  They  received  a  congratulatory  telegram  from  Tug- 
well  and  sang  their  co-operative  association  theme,  composed  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Benjamin  Brown: 

Production,  co-operation, 
Freedom  for  every  nation, 
Here,  there  and  everywhere, 
This  is  our  claim: 
Workers'  Aim,  Workers'  Aim. 

The  factory  building  was  100  feet  by  220  feet,  mostly  all  windows, 
air-conditioned,  and  declared  to  be  the  most  modern  in  the  East. 
Present  at  the  dedication  were  union  officials,  sales  organization  exec- 
utives, fashion  models,  and  an  orchestra.  Large  orders  for  coats  were 
announced.  Benjamin  Brown,  who  presided  at  the  dedication,  de- 
fended Jersey  Homesteads  against  charges  of  communism,  declaring 
instead  that  it  was  "common  sense-ism"  and  in  line  with  the  Constitu- 
tion and  the  American  way.  The  trade  name  of  the  factory  product 
was  to  be  "Tripod,"  standing  for  the  triple  co-operative  foundation 
of  the  colony.  Brown  said:  "On  this  tripod  we  will  not  only  bring  back 
craftmanship  and  pride  of  achievement,  together  with  security,  but 
we  will  bring  back  prosperity  based  on  abundance  and  not  on  curtail- 
ment." 17 

Despite  the  auspicious  opening  of  the  factory,  it  failed  in  its  first 
year  of  operation,  with  Brown  blaming  the  government  and  the  govern- 
ment inclined  to  place  the  blame  on  the  homesteaders.  Brown  became 
committed  to  a  summer  opening  of  the  factory  because  of  Resettle- 
ment Administration  promises  to  have  the  homes  finished  by  July. 
Yet,  in  August,  only  eight  homesteads  were  completed,  even  as  factory 
orders  were  being  received.  Plans  to  settle  homesteaders  in  pup  tents 
pending  completion  of  their  homes  were  rejected  by  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  which  feared  the  adverse  publicity.  As  a  result 
many  of  the  family  heads  came  to  Hightstown  and  found  lodging  in 
local  homes,  thus  managing  to  keep  the  factory  going.  By  December 
the  $60,000  contributed  by  the  120  approved  homesteaders  was  ex- 
hausted, and  orders  for  coats  had  not  been  large  enough  for  a  profit. 

"Washington  Star,  Sept.  8,  1936;  New  York  Times,  Aug.  2,  1936,  pt.  2,  p.  2; 
Lucey,  "A  Cooperative  Town,"  p.  211. 


Jersey  Homesteads  269 

Brown,  who  led  a  delegation  of  homesteaders  to  Washington,  ac- 
cused the  government  of  a  breach  of  faith  in  not  having  completed  the 
house  construction  as  scheduled,  thus  preventing  the  success  of  the 
factory.  Although  the  Resettlement  Administration  felt  that  the  failure 
of  the  factory  was  due  to  poor  management,  it  was  keenly  embarrassed 
by  the  lags  in  construction.  This  was  particularly  true  of  the  Family 
Selection  Section,  which  had  readied  the  homesteaders  for  moving 
without  knowing  of  the  delay  by  the  Construction  Division.  Several 
homesteaders  faced  acute  hardship  as  a  result.  Therefore  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  granted  Brown  a  loan  of  $50,000  for  the  further 
operation  of  the  factory.18 

The  second  factory  season  opened  in  January,  1937.  Since  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  had  completed  the  homes,  any  further  losses 
could  not  be  attributed  to  a  lack  of  ready  labor,  although  Brown 
could  claim  that  the  nonfulfillment  of  orders  the  first  year  had  per- 
manently ruined  the  market  for  the  factory's  products.  The  second 
factory  season  ended  by  Easter,  with  no  further  operating  funds. 
Brown's  appeal  for  a  new  loan  from  the  Resettlement  Administration 
(now  part  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture)  was  rejected.  Brown 
accused  the  government  of  bad  faith  and  raised  $50,000  himself, 
forming  the  Tripod  Coat  and  Suit,  Incorporated,  to  design,  promote, 
and  distribute  the  garments.  The  factory  products  were  to  be  sold 
through  farm  co-operative  outlets  throughout  the  country.  The  Tri- 
pod products  were  distributed  by  seven  trucks,  each  of  which  carried 
complete  lines  of  coats,  plus  racks  and  mirrors.  One  truck  reported 
sales  of  $1,000  in  one  day.  But  by  May,  1938,  Tripod  suspended 
operations  for  lack  of  funds.  Appealing  to  the  Farm  Security  Admin- 
istration, Brown  finally  received  a  loan  of  $150,000,  with  stipulations  in- 
tended to  prevent  reckless  expenditures  or  overproduction.  Almost 
unbelievably,  these  funds  were  exhausted  in  less  than  a  year.  The 
Farm  Security  Administration  had  to  admit  the  complete  failure  of 
the  co-operative  factory  and  adamantly  refused  to  grant  Brown  any 
further  aid.19 

Long  before  the  final  failure  of  the  factory  in  April,  1939,  the  housing 
shortage  at  Jersey  Homesteads  had  become  a  housing  surplus.  Even 

18  Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  38;  J.  O.  Walker  to  E.  E.  Agger, 
Oct.  9,  1936,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

19  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  150—151. 


270  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

though  the  200  homes  were  completed,  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion was  unwilling  to  move  more  families  into  the  colony  than  the 
economic  opportunities  warranted.  In  addition,  no  tenants  could  be 
found  who  were  willing  to  contribute  $500  to  a  factory  that  was  an 
obvious  failure.  In  February,  1938,  ninety-six  homes  were  vacant, 
with  the  Resettlement  Administration  threatening  to  lease  them  to 
nonparticipating  tenants,  and  this  it  later  did.  Jersey  Homesteads 
never  contained  more  than  120  participating  Jewish  families.20 

The  Jersey  Homesteads  agricultural  asociation  was  organized  in 
the  summer  of  1936,  with  ninety-seven  homesteaders  joining.  The  farm 
co-operative  had  $16,000  profit  from  the  New  Jersey  Rural  Rehabilita- 
tion Corporation,  which  had  leased  the  farm  land  for  the  first  year, 
and  two  loans  from  the  Resettlement  Administration  totaling  $133,692. 
The  general  farm  of  412  acres  was  operated  by  seven  experienced 
farmers  who  had  been  selected  as  homesteaders  for  that  purpose. 
They  received  a  regular  salary  of  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  from  the 
agricultural  association.  By  raising  truck  crops  for  the  market,  the 
farm  made  a  profit  of  $17,000  in  1936,  only  to  lose  money  consistently 
in  the  following  years.  In  the  spring  of  1937  a  poultry  unit  was  started, 
and  a  nearby  dairy  farm  was  purchased  in  the  fall  of  1937.  Con- 
trary to  Brown's  expectations,  the  three  farm  units  never  provided 
employment  for  more  than  thirteen  people  on  the  project,  and  these 
were  the  professional  farmers.  The  factory  workers,  used  to  indoor 
work  and  union  wages,  were  not  willing  to  supplement  their  earn- 
ings by  farm  work,  even  in  periods  of  unemployment.  As  a  result 
transient  Negro  laborers  were  employed  in  busy  seasons.  Of  the  three 
units,  only  the  poultry  plant  managed  to  make  any  profits.  After  last- 
ing only  a  year  and  losing  $15,000,  the  dairy  farm  was  leased  to  an 
outside  co-operative.21 

The  third  leg  of  the  co-operative  tripod,  the  consumer  outlets,  was 
slightly  stronger  than  the  factory  and  farms.  The  clothing  store  was 
doomed  with  the  factory,  but  the  grocery  and  meat  market  had  periods 
of  limited  prosperity,  while  the  small  tearoom  managed  to  survive, 
albeit  with  inadequate  stock  and  facilities.  The  three  co-operatives 
at  Jersey  Homesteads  were  each  controlled  by  a  Board  of  Directors 

20  New  York  Times,  Feb.  7,  1938,  p.  2;  Sept.  24,  1938,  p.  19. 
^Weller,  "Land  of  Milk  and  Honey,"  p.  13;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on 
Earth,  pp.  152-154. 


Jersey  Homesteads  271 

elected  by  the  members.  Each  of  the  co-operatives  was  represented 
in  a  community  council,  which  approved  all  new  members  admitted 
to  the  community.  Each  member  of  the  co-operatives  had  one  vote 
and  was  to  share  equally  in  any  dividends.  The  homesteaders  entered 
into  the  co-operatives  with  great  enthusiasm,  making  co-operation 
almost  a  religion.  They  even  formed  a  co-operative  political  party, 
which  elected  their  first  mayor.  Yet  enthusiasm  was  not  enough.22 

The  co-operative  factory  lost  money  because  of  an  inexperienced 
manager,  because  of  production  in  excess  of  orders,  because  of  an 
overly  ambitious  line  of  goods,  and  because  of  high  labor  costs  and 
inefficient  production.  Even  though  many  of  the  homesteaders  felt 
that  the  failure  was  the  fault  of  the  government,  they  would  have  been 
more  realistic  if  they  had  placed  the  blame  on  themselves  and  their 
own  attitudes.  Habituated  to  highly  competitive  endeavor,  they  were 
frankly  seeking  more  wages  and  a  better  job  for  themselves  rather  than 
a  new  way  of  life.  Co-operation  meant  benefits  to  the  exclusion  of 
sacrifices.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  the  farm  units,  the  homesteaders,  ex- 
cept for  the  farmers,  were  primarily  interested  in  what  they  could  get 
from  the  farms.  They  wanted  lowered  prices  for  farm  products  but 
were  unwilling  to  work  for  the  lower  farm  wages.  Eventually  the 
nonfarmers  in  the  agricultural  association  secured  control  of  the  Board 
of  Directors  and  tried  to  run  the  farms  for  their  own  benefit.  Even 
the  homesteaders'  cohesiveness  sometimes  hindered,  for  their  attitude 
was  one  of  "you  protect  me  and  I  will  protect  you."  Thus  inefficient 
workers  were  retained.  A  clerk  in  the  co-operative  store,  when  dis- 
missed, picketed  the  store  the  next  day,  and  not  a  customer  passed  him. 
He  was  rehired,  since  all  business  had  ceased.23 

Although  a  co-operative  economy  at  Jersey  Homesteads  failed,  a 
second  objective  of  the  original  sponsors — the  successful  decentraliza- 
tion of  a  seasonal  industry — was  not  necessarily  proved  impractical, 
since  decentralized  clothing  factories  were  successful  in  nearby  towns. 
Just  after  the  failure  of  the  co-operative  factory  in  1939,  a  private 
company  leased  the  factory  building  from  the  co-operative  associa- 
tion, but  remained  only  a  short  time.  The  homesteaders,  used  to  the 

22  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  152-154;  Harold  V.  Knight,  "Jersey 
Homesteads,  Co-operative  Outpost,"  Christian  Century,  LV  (Feb.  2,  1938),  142; 
Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  7. 

23  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  148,  152—153,  155. 


272  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

excellent  positions  and  high  wages  they  had  given  themselves,  made 
such  high  wage  demands  that  the  private  concern  withdrew  after  a 
short  period  of  bitter  controversy.  In  October,  1939,  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  forced  the  co-operative  association  to  sell  the  factory 
at  auction,  since  its  loans  were  still  unpaid.  The  government  bid  in 
the  factory  and  most  of  the  fixtures,  netting  only  $1,811  on  the  items 
released.  After  remaining  idle  a  year,  the  factory  was  rented  for  five 
years  to  Kartiganer  and  Company  of  Manhattan  for  the  manufacturing 
of  women's  hats.  By  that  time  many  of  the  homesteaders  had  secured 
jobs  in  nearby  cities,  although  in  1941  about  100  homesteaders,  from 
40  families,  were  working  in  the  hat  factory,  which  proved  moderately 
successful.24 

Another  objective  of  Jersey  Homesteads  was  subsistence  agriculture 
on  the  small  homestead  plots.  When  first  on  their  homesteads  most 
of  the  settlers  were  enthusiastically  interested  in  vegetable  gardens. 
Experts  from  the  New  Jersey  Agricultural  Experiment  Station  gave 
lectures  on  gardening,  and  the  farm  co-operative  offered  to  plow  and 
sow  each  garden  for  ten  dollars.  Many  of  the  homesteaders  quickly 
lost  their  early  interest.  Eight  families  never  made  use  of  their  garden 
plot  at  all,  and  thirty-eight  families  almost  exclusively  raised  flowers. 
These  families  claimed  that  gardening  did  not  pay  when  proper 
charges  were  made  for  their  own  labor,  which,  in  spite  of  periods  of 
unemployment,  they  felt  should  be  amply  rewarded.  On  the  other 
hand,  about  sixty-five  homesteaders  took  pride  in  their  vegetable  gar- 
dens, some  as  sources  of  food,  many  as  hobbies.25 

One  objective  of  Jersey  Homesteads  was  fulfilled  even  beyond  ex- 
pectations. From  the  first  occupancy,  Jersey  Homesteads  was  a  true 
community,  with  a  cohesive,  socially  active  citizenry.  The  first  moving 
into  homes  was  a  community  affair.  Through  the  long  wait  for  the 
completion  of  the  homesteads  and  during  what  the  settlers  believed 
was  a  long  struggle  to  get  the  government  to  fulfill  its  obligations, 
the  homesteaders  had  developed  a  close  bond  of  kinship.  In  the  com- 
munity everyone  knew  everyone  else,  and  house  doors  were  never 
locked.  Though  quick  to  criticize  the  government  and  its  policies, 
the  homesteaders  were  proud  of  their  new  homes  and  very  happy 

24  Ibid.,  p.  156;  New  York  Times,  Oct.  28,  1939,  p.  17,  Oct.  31,  1939,  p.  23,  and 
Nov.  1,  1939,  p.  26;  "Back  to  Capitalism,"  Time,  XXXV  (April  22,  1940),  87-88. 

25  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  157—158. 


Jersey  Homesteads  273 

about  the  opportunities  offered  by  the  community.  Numerous  social 
organizations  were  quickly  organized;  in  fact,  the  community  was  al- 
most overorganized,  with  some  meeting  occurring  almost  every  night. 
In  1939  there  were  only  three  adult  members  of  the  original  home- 
steaders who  did  not  belong  to  one  or  another  of  the  community 
organizations.  There  was  a  dramatic  club,  a  junior  league,  a  sewing 
circle,  a  baseball  club,  and  a  regular  cultural  evening.  In  spite  of  the 
lack  of  steady  employment,  none  of  the  homesteaders  wanted  to 
return  to  New  York  City.  When  economic  necessity  forced  home- 
steaders to  move,  they  always  mourned  the  loss  of  friends  and  the 
pleasant  social  life.  Jersey  Homesteads,  as  much  as  any  other  New 
Deal  community,  was  a  well-defined  social  organism,  with  a  character 
and  a  soul  all  its  own. 

Although  the  homesteaders  desired,  more  than  anything  else,  to 
own  their  own  homes,  Jersey  Homesteads  remained  under  government 
leases  until  the  final  liquidation  by  the  Public  Housing  Authority. 
The  rentals  were  very  low,  averaging  from  about  $12  to  $16  per  month. 
Although  Jersey  Homesteads  had  a  community  manager  appointed 
by  the  Resettlement  Administration,  it  always  exhibited  more  local 
control  than  most  of  the  other  communities.  The  influence  of  the 
original  sponsors  remained  very  important,  with  the  homesteaders 
surrendering  all  authority  to  such  leaders  as  Benjamin  Brown.  The 
group  meetings  of  the  homesteaders  were  dominated  by  those  leaders, 
who  often  deliberately  defied  government  officials.  Unique  among  the 
subsistence  homesteads  projects,  Jersey  Homesteads  was  incorporated 
in  1937  as  a  borough,  with  its  own  town  government.  The  first  mayor, 
Philip  Goldstein,  practically  became  a  permanent  official,  serving  many 
years  without  a  salary.26 

Jersey  Homesteads,  even  as  Arthurdale,  was  a  focal  point  for  anti- 
New  Deal  criticism.  Its  controversial  career  invited  critics,  while 
its  co-operative  pattern  aroused  conservatives  to  an  attack  upon  the 
ideas  back  of  the  community.  Much  of  the  early  controversy  was 
heightened  by  the  actions  of  the  homesteads  and  their  leaders,  who 
were  quick  to  accuse  the  government  of  bad  faith  and  who  never 
hesitated  to  publicize  their  complaints  or  their  wishes.  The  fact  that 
many  of  the  homesteaders  had  emigrated  from  Russia,  that  90  per 

26  Ibid.,  pp.  158-159;  Armstrong,  "Four-Million  Dollar  Village,"  p.  7;  New  York 
Herald  Tribune,  June  8,  1937;  New  York  Times,  July  13,  1941,  p.  28. 


274  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

cent  of  them  were  foreign-born,  that  Brown  himself  was  born  in 
Russia  and  had  co-operated  with  the  Soviet  Government  in  1928, 
was  ammunition  for  the  most  unethical  critics.  The  Philadelphia  In- 
quirer complained  that  "the  American  taxpayer  is  putting  up  $1,800,000 
to  erect  a  model  of  a  Russian  Soviet  Commune  half  way  between 
New  York  and  Philadelphia."  According  to  the  same  editorial,  "200 
carefully  selected  families,  headed  by  a  Russian-born  little  Stalin, 
will  be  running  their  'co-operative.' " 27  To  counteract  criticism  of 
this  sort,  the  homesteaders  had  Fourth  of  July  celebrations,  sang 
patriotic  songs,  attended  Americanization  classes,  and  tried  to  point 
out  the  difference  between  co-operation  and  communism. 

The  most  convincing  attacks  on  Jersey  Homesteads  were  directed 
at  the  high  costs,  the  mistakes  in  construction,  and  the  failure  of  the 
co-operatives.  The  homesteaders  and  sponsors  aided  part  of  this  at- 
tack by  constantly  expressing  their  fears  that  the  project  cost  was 
going  to  be  so  high  that  they  could  never  repay  the  government.  On 
July  4,  1936,  as  the  costs  and  criticism  mounted  under  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  construction  program,  Rabbi  Wise,  a  loyal  spon- 
sor, stated:  "We  will  pay  back  the  government  every  red  cent  that  it 
has  invested  in  this  enterprise,  even  if  it  takes  the  rest  of  our  lives 
and  the  lives  of  our  children."  28  This  very  quickly  became  a  manifest 
impossibility,  and  not  by  the  fault  of  the  homesteaders,  who  surely 
were  not  expected  to  pay  for  the  inefficient  relief  labor  or  for  the 
$200,000  concrete-slab  factory.  The  failure  of  the  concrete-slab  method, 
the  lockout  of  visitors  at  the  construction  site,  the  drab  appearance 
that  was  so  widely  belived  would  mark  the  slab-type  homes,  the  loss 
of  local  tax  revenue,  and  the  enormous  cost,  all  influenced  Senator 
Warren  Barbour  of  New  Jersey  to  introduce  his  Senate  resolution 
requiring  a  full,  and  what  was  hoped  would  be  an  embarrassing, 
report  from  the  Resettlement  Administration. 

Many  of  the  New  Deal  communities  were  disliked,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  by  the  older  inhabitants  in  the  surrounding  areas.  This  local 
hostility  was  very  marked  at  Jersey  Homesteads.  The  type  of  archi- 
tecture, the  extravagance,  and  the  character  and  nature  of  the  ex- 
pected homesteaders  were  all  assailed  by  local  or,  at  least,  by  New 

27  Philadelphia  Inquirer,  May  7,  1936. 

28  In  Lucey,  "A  Cooperative  Town,"  p.  210. 


Jersey  Homesteads  275 

Jersey  critics.  It  was  the  mistakes  at  Jersey  Homesteads  that  influenced 
the  citizens  of  Bound  Brook  to  enter  their  successful  injunction  against 
the  greenbelt  city  of  Greenbrook  and  thereby  almost  block  the  whole 
Resettlement  Administration  program.  In  fact,  a  Hearst  newspaper 
reporter  circulated  a  petition  in  the  town  of  Hightstown  request- 
ing a  similar  injunction  against  Jersey  Homesteads.29 

It  was  the  cost  of  Jersey  Homesteads,  more  than  that  of  any  other 
project,  that  gave  Senator  Harry  F.  Byrd  grounds  for  attacking  the 
extravagance  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  Byrd's  attack  ma- 
terially contributed  to  the  final  abolition  of  the  Farm  Security  Ad- 
ministration. Using  information  allegedly  secured  from  the  General 
Accounting  Office,  Byrd  placed  the  price  of  Jersey  Homesteads  at 
over  $4,000,000.  The  final  account  by  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion listed  the  total  cost  as  $3,402,382.27,  or  about  $16,516  per  unit  if 
divided  equally  among  each  of  the  206  homesteads  (both  in  town 
and  on  the  farms).30  If  it  is  considered  that  only  120  families  ever 
shared  in  the  numerous  community  facilities,  the  total  unit  cost  for 
some  of  the  participating  homesteads  was  over  $20,000.  Of  course 
much  of  the  money  was  poured  into  the  operation  of  the  factory, 
into  experiments  in  construction,  and  into  the  wages  of  highly  in- 
efficient relief  laborers.  But,  in  any  case,  there  was  no  question  in  the 
mind  of  anyone,  including  the  officials  of  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, that  the  total  cost  of  Jersey  Homesteads  represented  at  least 
three  times  its  actual  value.  In  fact,  as  early  as  1937,  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  estimated  that  Jersey  Homesteads  could  be  liq- 
uidated for  only  27.9  per  cent  of  cost.31 

In  one  sense  the  end  of  the  Jersey  Homesteads  experiment  began 
in  September,  1938,  when  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  finally 
realizing  that  the  economic  opportunities  at  Jersey  Homesteads  were 
not  sufficient  to  attract  any  more  Jewish  garmentworkers  (at  $500  a 
family),  began  renting  seventy-five  homes  to  nonparticipating  families 
from  the  local  area.  In  1940  the  farm,  poultry  plant,  and  crops  were 
auctioned,  with  the  government  bidding  in  most  of  the  property.  After 
having  lost  money  for  four  years,  the  farm  co-operative  was  abolished. 

29  Weller,  "Land  of  Milk  and  Honey,"  p.  12. 

30  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  p.  1118. 

31  H.  W.  Truesdell  to  E.  G.  Arnold,  May  28,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


276  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

With  the  factory  already  in  private  hands,  the  co-operative  community 
was  at  an  end.32 

One  thing  could  not  be  liquidated — the  community  itself,  for  it 
involved  more  than  economics.  In  July,  1941,  the  102  remaining  Jewish 
homesteaders  celebrated  their  fifth  anniversary  at  Jersey  Homesteads. 
Some  were  commuting  to  other  cities  for  work;  others  were  employed 
in  their  old  factory;  all  were  happy  with  their  homes  and  home- 
stead plots.  Mayor  Philip  Goldstein,  deploring  the  fact  that  the  home- 
steaders still  rented  their  homes,  asked  for  a  homestead  association 
for  Jersey  Homesteads.  Such  an  association  had  been  tentatively  ap- 
proved by  the  Farm  Security  Administration  as  early  as  July  15,  1940, 
but  in  1942,  before  it  was  ever  put  into  effect,  Jersey  Homesteads  was 
transferred  to  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority.33  This  agency 
and  its  successor,  the  Public  Housing  Administration,  completed  the 
liquidation  of  the  government's  investment  in  Jersey  Homesteads  by 
selling  the  homes  to  individuals  after  the  end  of  World  War  II.  After 
liquidation,  the  homesteaders  decided  to  change  the  name  of  their 
community  to  Roosevelt,  New  Jersey.  Jersey  Homesteads,  long  as- 
sociated with  controversy  and  extravagance,  disappeared  from  the  map. 
Roosevelt,  New  Jersey,  a  name  symbolic  of  a  better  future  in  its  very 
newness,  was  also  an  indication  of  the  homesteaders'  gratefulness  to 
a  recently  deceased  hero. 

32  New  York  Times,  Sept.  24,  1938,  p.  19;  Oct.  31,  1939,  p.  23;  July  3,  1940, 
p.  19. 

33  Ibid.,  July  13,  1941,  p.  28;  Memorandum  for  J.  O.  Walker,  March  16,  1941, 
R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


XII 


Fender  lea  Homesteads— Something 
Less  than  a  Rural  Paradise 


ARTHURDALE,  in  addition  to  being  the  first  and  most  experimental 
of  the  New  Deal  communities,  was  also  representative  of  a  particular 
type  of  community,  the  stranded  workers'  community.  Jersey  Home- 
steads was  the  only  fully  co-operative  industrial  community,  but  in 
many  ways  represented  the  difficulties  encountered  in  the  completely 
co-operative  rural  communities,  such  as  Lake  Dick  and  Casa  Grande. 
Less  well  known  by  the  public,  but  actually  comprising  over  two- 
thirds  of  the  completed  communities,  were  the  all-rural  farm  com- 
munities and  the  industrial-type  subsistence  homesteads  communities. 
The  hopes  and  dreams,  the  trials  and  tribulations  that  characterized 
the  former  can  be  observed  in  the  first  of  the  farm  communities,  Pen- 
derlea  Homesteads  in  Fender  County,  North  Carolina. 

The  approval  of  plans  for  Penderlea  by  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  in  November,  1933,  simply  marked  the  beginning  of  an- 
other ambitious  community  project  by  Hugh  MacRae,  who  started 
the  construction  of  his  first  organized  rural  community  in  1905.  Mac- 
Rae, frequently  mentioned  in  earlier  chapters,  was  an  engineer  and 
businessman  who  graduated  from  the  Massachusetts  Institute  of  Tech- 
nology in  1885.  In  the  next  twenty  years  he  amassed  a  sizable  fortune 
in  the  railroad  and  public  utilities  business  in  the  area  of  his  home 
at  Wilmington,  North  Carolina.  MacRae  imbibed  freely  of  the  positiv- 
istic  optimism  of  the  turn  of  the  century.  He  envisioned  unending 

277 


278  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

progress  through  science  and  the  adaptation  of  experts  to  all  fields 
of  endeavor.  As  a  wealthy  capitalist,  he  defended  the  right,  even  the 
duty,  of  individuals  to  amass  wealth,  but  at  the  same  time  he  be- 
lieved that  humanitarianism  was  the  only  acceptable  goal  of  either 
wealth  or  science.  He  wanted  the  idea  of  public  service  and  public 
morality  so  to  capture  the  business  world  that  wealth  would  be 
shared  voluntarily  for  the  common  good.  Philanthrophy,  not  taxa- 
tion, was  the  desirable  means  to  social  progress.1 

Even  before  1900  MacRae  had  decided  to  use  part  of  his  wealth  to 
initiate  farm  colonies  as  demonstrations  of  a  new  type  of  highly 
diversified  Southern  agriculture  and  of  the  social  possibilities  of  farm 
communities.  Beginning  in  1905  he  optioned  approximately  453,000 
acres  of  uncleared,  undrained  land  north  of  Wilmington  and  formed  a 
company  to  colonize  it.  From  these  options  he  purchased  almost  200,000 
acres,  including  the  future  site  of  Penderlea.  After  soil  analyses  and 
a  survey  by  fourteen  engineers,  MacRae  plotted  the  sites  of  several 
future  colonies.  The  street  systems  and  drainage  were  planned,  and 
the  land  was  divided  into  ten-acre  farms.  MacRae  then  sent  an  agent 
to  the  West  to  procure  colonists.  When  he  failed  to  find  enough  Ameri- 
cans interested  in  the  ten-acre,  uncleared  plots,  MacRae  turned  to 
Europe.  His  agent  sought  immigrants  in  Italy,  Poland,  England,  Hol- 
land, Greece,  and  Germany.  By  1908,  when  MacRae  revealed  his 
work  to  the  public,  800  colonists  were  in  residence  in  six  colonies. 
The  largest  colony,  St.  Helena,  included  only  Italians.  A  small  colony 
of  Greeks  at  Marathon  was  soon  replaced  by  Poles.  The  Dutch  settled 
at  Van  Eden.  A  few  English  bachelors  formed  a  short-lived  colony 
named  Artesia,  and  the  Germans  settled  New  Berlin.  The  most  suc- 
cessful colony  was  at  Castle  Hayne,  where  American  colonists  were 
joined  by  several  immigrants  of  various  nationalities.2 

In  establishing  his  colonies  MacRae  had  no  precedents  to  follow. 

1  Hugh  MacRae,  "Vitalizing  the  Nation  and  Conserving  Human  Units  through 
the  Development  of  Agricultural  Communities,"  Annals  of  the  American  Academy, 
LXIII  (1916),  278;  Senate  Committee  on  Agriculture  and  Forestry,  Hearings  on 
S.  1800,  To  Create  the  Farm  Tenant  Homes  Corporation,  74th  Cong.,  1st  Sess., 
1935,  p.  50. 

2  Hearings  on  S.  1800,  p.  61;  Edmund  de  S.  Brunner,  Immigrant  Farmers  and 
Their  Children   (New  York,    1929),   p.    141;   "Farm   Colonies   near  Wilmington, 
N.C.,"  Carolinas,  I  (March,  1933),  3;  Robert  W.  Vincent,  "Successful  Immigrants 
in  the  South:  The  Difficult  Problem  Solved  by  the  Business-like  Efforts  of  One 
Man,"  World's  Work,  XVII  (1908),  10908-10909. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  279 

Elwood  Mead  had  not  yet  returned  to  America  from  Australia  with 
his  well-defined  colonization  scheme.  As  a  result  MacRae  varied  his 
methods  from  colony  to  colony  and  learned  from  his  mistakes.  The 
Italians  at  St.  Helena,  the  largest  colony,  received  extensive  super- 
vision from  the  colonization  company,  which  even  constructed  their 
homes.  At  other  colonies  the  company  did  very  little  development. 
MacRae  established  an  experimental  farm  on  the  poorest  ground  for 
the  benefit  of  all  the  colonists.  He  also  furnished  the  early  colonists 
with  implements,  transportation  facilities,  and  a  marketing  service 
and  paid  the  colonists  for  the  wood  they  cut  in  clearing  their  ten  acres. 
A  superintendent  was  provided  for  each  colony.  The  colonists  were 
to  pay  for  their  farms  through  intensive  truck  farming,  receiving  clear 
deeds  except  for  a  provision  to  keep  the  land  from  ever  passing  into 
the  hands  of  Negroes.  From  early  failures,  such  as  the  quick  departure 
of  the  English  bachelors,  MacRae  decided  that  only  married  men 
would  make  good  colonists,  that  the  land  should  be  cleared  and  even 
planted  before  settlement,  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  no  houses 
should  be  built  by  the  company.  The  essentials  to  success  seemed  to  be 
cheap  land,  ample  credit,  scientific  planning  in  advance,  careful  selec- 
tion of  settlers,  expert  guidance,  co-operative  activity,  and  a  sociable 
community  life.3 

Castle  Hayne,  the  mixed  colony,  became  the  most  successful  and, 
in  MacRae's  eyes,  the  most  perfect  demonstration  of  a  foolproof  method 
of  colonization.  The  colony  was  based  on  an  intensive,  all-year  cultiva- 
tion of  diversified  truck  crops  by  about  forty  colonists,  with  a  few 
prosperous  settlers  extending  their  original  ten  acres  to  twenty  or 
even  thirty.  MacRae  urged  the  colonists  to  invest  their  profits  in  in- 
dustrial securities  rather  than  in  more  land,  since  he  believed  it  pos- 
sible to  make  a  complete  living  on  a  very  few  acres  of  ground.  At 
Castle  Hayne,  as  at  all  the  MacRae  colonies,  the  settlers  grew  their 
own  subsistence  and  joined  in  co-operative  endeavors.  MacRae  be- 
lieved that  the  success  of  the  colonists  was  a  demonstration  to  the  whole 
South  of  the  advantages  of  a  diversified  rather  than  a  one-crop  agri- 
culture. He  desired  up  to  ten  such  colonies  in  each  Southern  state.4 

1  3  Vincent,  "Successful  Immigrants,"  pp.  10909-10910;  Brunner,  Immigrant 
Farmers,  pp.  142-144;  Felice  Ferrero,  "A  New  St.  Helena,"  Survey,  XXIII  (1909), 
174. 

4  Hearings  on  S.  1800,  p.  50;  Brunner,  Immigrant  Farmers,  pp.  147-151;  "Farm 
Colonies  near  Wilmington,  N.C.,"  pp.  3—4. 


280  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

In  the  early  twenties  the  work  of  Elwood  Mead  in  the  California 
farm  colonies  and  the  growing  popularity  of  the  English  garden  city 
idea  contributed  to  a  vastly  increased  interest  in  organized  community 
planning,  leading,  on  one  hand,  to  such  suburban  experiments  as 
Radburn,  New  Jersey,  and,  on  the  other,  to  a  long  but  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  create  numerous  farm  colonies  both  in  the  South  and 
over  the  whole  nation.  As  living  examples  of  such  colonies,  MacRae's 
work  in  North  Carolina  took  on  a  national  significance.  In  1923  he 
and  many  of  the  world's  outstanding  city  planners,  conservationists, 
and  irrigationists,  including  John  Nolen,  Thomas  Adams,  Sir  Raymond 
Unwin,  Gifford  Pinchot,  and  Elwood  Mead,  joined  in  the  formation 
of  the  Farm  City  Corporation  of  America.  The  corporation  planned 
to  lay  out  and  build  a  farm  city  that  would  combine  the  advantages 
of  town  and  country.  The  funds  were  to  come  from  private  investors, 
who  would  eventually  gain  a  profit  when  the  settlers  had  repaid  the 
purchase  price.  The  corporation  desired  8,000  acres  of  fertile  land  for 
its  first  city.  The  farm  city  was  to  include  a  community  center,  an 
area  for  industry,  subsistence  homesteads  around  the  community  cen- 
ter, and  outlying  farms  of  increasing  sizes.  John  Nolen  and  an  as- 
sociate planner,  Philip  W.  Foster,  actually  sketched  a  farm-city  plan 
for  a  site  near  the  MacRae  colonies.  This  unused  plan  of  1923  was 
very  similar  to  the  one  that  Nolen  later  used  for  Penderlea.5 

Unfortunately  for  MacRae's  dreams,  private  investments  were  not 
forthcoming  for  the  proposed  farm  city.  As  a  result  he  joined  with 
Elwood  Mead  in  advocating  government-supported  demonstration 
farm  communities  for  the  South.  When  Mead  secured  congressional 
approval  for  the  survey  of  possible  sites  for  these  colonies,  the  MacRae 
colonies  were  much  studied  and  were  cited  as  examples  of  success- 
ful colonization.  Since  none  of  the  legislative  measures  to  establish  a 
colonization  program  was  passed  by  Congress,  the  farm-city  idea  had 
to  await  the  New  Deal  and  the  subsistence  homesteads  program. 
MacRae  was  early  considered  for  the  position  of  Administrator  of  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and,  in  November,  1933,  fairly 
easily  secured  the  approval  of  the  division  for  a  $1,000,000  farm  colony 
on  part  of  his  land  in  Pender  County.  This,  the  first  approved  farm 

6  George  H.  Gall,  "Making  Farm  Life  Profitable  and  Pleasant,"  National  Real 
Estate  Journal,  XXIV  (May  21,  1923),  29-32. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  281 

colony,  was  intended  to  solve  the  problems  of  stranded  and  sub- 
marginal  farmers  and  of  landless  tenant  farmers.6 

More  than  any  other  colony,  Penderlea's  conception  and  early  direc- 
tion were  influenced  by  one  man — MacRae.  Under  the  early,  decen- 
tralized plan  of  administration,  MacRae  was,  very  naturally,  appointed 
project  manager  by  the  local  corporation.  The  corporation's  Board  of 
Directors  included  Frank  Fritts,  general  counsel  of  the  Federal  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  Corporation  and  a  member  of  the  faculty  at 
Princeton;  Carl  C.  Taylor,  formerly  dean  of  the  Graduate  School  at 
North  Carolina  State  College,  vice-president  of  the  American  Country 
Life  Association,  and  an  assistant  to  M.  L.  Wilson  in  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads;  and  John  Nolen,  at  that  time  president  of 
the  International  Federation  of  Town  and  Country  Planning,  a  teacher 
in  the  School  of  City  Planning  at  Harvard,  and  a  consultant  to  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  As  a  first  step,  the  local  corpora- 
tion purchased  4,550  acres  of  land  from  MacRae  for  $7.10  an  acre. 
The  Department  of  Agriculture  assisted  in  surveys  and  soil  analyses, 
the  State  of  North  Carolina  agreed  to  furnish  roads,  and  Pender 
County  agreed  to  provide  a  school.  John  Nolen,  already  familiar  with 
the  area,  planned  a  community  for  300  farm  families.7 

MacRae's  plan  for  Penderlea  was  based  on  his  experience  with  his 
own  colonies.  He  believed  the  ten-acre  plots  large  enough  to  provide 
subsistence  and  a  cash  income  to  be  used  by  the  homesteader  to 
purchase  his  homestead.  The  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  was 
building  the  homes,  there  was  plenty  of  wood  for  fuel,  the  state  pro- 
vided roads  and  education,  and  the  planned  community  would  as- 
sure satisfactory  social  conditions.  What  more  was  needed?  The  most 
carefully  planned  of  all  the  rural  colonies,  Penderlea  was  laid  out 
around  a  central  community  center.  With  the  land  already  forested, 
the  houses  and  roadsides  were  to  remain  shaded.  The  creek  and 
drainage  areas  were  also  to  remain  forested  and  were  to  be  used  as 
parks.  Most  of  the  small,  ten-acre  farm  plots  faced  on  a  road  in  front 
and  a  forest  belt  and  creek  or  ditch  in  the  rear  (see  Figure  1).  The 
local  corporation  selected  the  early  homesteaders  from  among  local 

6  Gordon  Van  Schaack,  "Penderlea  Homesteads:   The  Development  of  a  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads  Project,"  Landscape  Architecture,  XV  ( 1934-1935 ) ,  76. 

7  News  Item,  Jan.  16,  1934,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  News  Release,  n.d.,  ibid. 


282  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

farmers,  basing  their  selection  on  farming  skills  as  well  as  on  need. 
MacRae  believed  that  the  early  selectees  were  among  the  "most 
skilled  people"  in  the  world.8 

MacRae  personally  directed  Penderlea  only  until  May,  1934,  at  which 
time  all  the  subsistence  homesteads  projects  were  federalized.  Al- 
though he  remained  a  short  while  longer  as  a  federal  employee,  Mac- 
Rae's  influence  soon  waned.  When  his  plans  for  Penderlea  were  altered, 
his  accomplishments  became  a  matter  of  angry  controversy.  Since  only 
twenty  acres  of  the  purchased  land  was  cleared,  MacRae  had  used 
transient  labor  and  rented  machinery  to  clear  approximately  1,500 
acres.  He  had  also  supervised  the  construction  of  sixteen  miles  of 
roads  and  of  ten  frame  houses.  He  had  spent  $18,000  of  federal  funds 
for  a  transient  labor  camp  and  $24,000  to  establish  an  experimental 
farm,  a  fixture  he  had  found  necessary  on  his  older  colonies.  During 
his  management  he  spent  $325,000  of  the  $1,000,000  loan.  According 
to  MacRae,  all  300  homes  would  have  been  completed  by  March, 
1935,  if  the  project  had  remained  under  local  control.9 

MacRae,  who  only  with  misgivings  accepted  the  idea  of  govern- 
ment financing  for  rural  colonies,  completely  revolted  at  the  idea  of 
government  control.  He  felt  that  he  had  a  personal  authorization  from 
the  President  to  build  a  community  which  would  revolutionize  rural 
life.  As  a  result,  he  appealed  to  President  Roosevelt  after  the  federal- 
ization  order,  asking  for  a  special  hearing  to  determine  the  best  type 
of  administrative  organization  for  subsistence  homesteads.  This  brought 
a  scathing  reply  from  Ickes:  "I  can  not  see  that  it  is  feasible  to  hold 
special  hearings  with  project  managers  for  each  project  before  mak- 
ing such  administrative  changes  as  we  deem  desirable."  10  Later  Mac- 
Rae, chafing  under  the  federal  control  of  his  beloved  project,  wanted 
to  invite  Roosevelt,  the  governor  of  North  Carolina,  and  newspaper 
reporters  to  visit  Penderlea  and  see  the  progress,  or  lack  of  it.  This 
was  directly  against  the  wishes  of  Ickes  and  Pynchon,  who  feared 
embarrassment  for  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  since  all 
was  not  well  at  Penderlea.11  By  this  time  MacRae  was  positive  that 

8  Van  Schaack,  "Penderlea  Homesteads,"  pp.  78-80;  Hearings  on  S.  1800,  p.  64. 

9  C.  E.  Pynchon  to  Oscar  Chapman,  Jan.  17,  1935,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives; 
Hearings  on  S.  1800,  p.  67. 

10  Ickes  to  MacRae,  May  2,  1934,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 

11  Pynchon  to  MacRae,  Nov.  15,  1934,  ibid. 


Figure  1.  Penderlea  Homesteads,   Fender   County,   North   Carolina.   From 
Landscape  Architecture,  XV  (Jan.,  1937),  77. 


284  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  new  directors  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program  had  be- 
trayed his  Penderlea.  He  blamed  the  government  for  all  the  later  mis- 
takes, even  as  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  attributed  most 
of  the  mistakes  to  early  planning  errors  on  the  part  of  MacRae. 

The  charges  against  MacRae  were  that  he  picked  poor,  undrained, 
sour  soil  that  could  never  repay  the  cost  of  clearing,  that  he  was 
careless  with  his  expenditures,  and  that  his  ten-acre  plots  were  much 
too  small  to  support  profitable  farming  operations.  MacRae  argued 
that  he  could  prove  that  any  family  with  sincere  purpose  and  brains 
could  make  a  complete  living  on  two  acres  of  ground.  He  described 
Penderlea  as  the  "best-laid-out  rural  community  in  America"  on  "as 
productive  land  as  you  can  get  in  the  United  States."  He  said  he 
"personally  would  be  willing  to  underwrite  the  success  of  every  farm 
in  that  colony  and  see  that  the  Government  got  back  every  dollar." 
MacRae  placed  the  responsibility  for  all  failures  at  Penderlea  on  an 
unsympathetic,  centralized,  urbanized  management  in  the  Division  of 
Subsistence  Homesteads,  which  could  not  "build  rural  communities." 
He  believed  that  Penderlea,  under  the  centralized  administration, 
was  only  of  value  in  showing  how  not  to  build  a  community.12  Mac- 
Rae turned  from  Penderlea  to  unsuccessful  efforts  to  find  support  for 
a  privately  sponsored  "Family  Homesteads,  Incorporated,"  and  to  at- 
tempts to  get  administrative  backing  and  loans  for  a  limited-dividend 
corporation  which  was  to  develop  colonies  near  Wilmington.  Mac- 
Rae, now  an  old  man,  never  saw  his  dream  of  more  colonies  ful- 
filled.13 

After  centralization,  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  initiated 
farm  management  studies  at  Penderlea  which  indicated  the  insuf- 
ficiency of  the  ten-acre  plots.  Accordingly  the  plans  for  Penderlea 
were  completely  revised,  with  the  new  plans  calling  for  only  150 
homestead  units  of  approximately  twenty  acres  each.  A  contract  was 
let  for  sixty-five  houses,  and  some  outbuildings  were  completed  by 
May,  1935,  when  the  Resettlement  Administration  inherited  Pender- 
lea.14 

By  December  15,  1935,  the  Resettlement  Administration  had  com- 
pleted plans  for  142  units  of  twenty  acres  each  at  Penderlea.  With  a 

12  Hearings  on  S.  1800,  pp.  50,  63,  65,  67. 

13  MacRae  to  M.  L.  Wilson,  Sept.  30,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  M.  L. 
Wilson  to  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  Aug.  31,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

:4  Pynchon  to  Oscar  Chapman,  Jan.  17,  1935,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  285 

work  force  of  up  to  1,800  relief  laborers,  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion completed  the  142  homes,  plus  barns,  hog  houses,  poultry  houses, 
wells,  and  pump  houses  by  September,  1936.  The  houses  were  of  one 
story  without  basements,  had  four  to  six  rooms,  contained  baths  and 
screened  porches,  and  were  heated  by  fireplaces.  Almost  one-half  of 
the  construction  budget  was  expended  on  further  land  clearing.  Al- 
though this  clearing  provided  relief  employment,  it  was  so  expensive 
($195,635  for  2,403  acres)  that  the  value  of  the  land  was  hardly 
sufficient  to  cover  the  cost  of  clearing.15 

In  1936  and  1937  the  Resettlement  Administration  purchased  ad- 
ditional land  at  Penderlea,  enlarging  the  project  to  9,833  acres.  As 
the  first  142  homes  were  completed,  the  Resettlement  Administration 
began  planning  for  another  158  units  of  thirty  acres  each  as  an  addition 
to  the  original  community  designed  by  Nolen.  Actually,  only  fifty 
additional  units  were  ever  added,  these  being  completed  in  1938. 
Meanwhile  the  community  center  was  developed,  with  its  thirty-one- 
room,  consolidated  county  school,  which  contained  a  community  li- 
brary, craft,  music,  and  band  rooms,  a  special  auditorium,  a  large 
gymnasium,  a  social  and  home  economics  building,  a  shop,  and  a 
school-bus  garage.  Also  in  the  community  center  were  the  administra- 
tion building,  the  community  building,  a  health  clinic,  a  home  for 
teachers,  a  potato-curing  house,  a  cane-syrup  mill,  a  cannery,  a  co- 
operative store,  a  large  warehouse,  a  gristmill,  a  grading  house,  and  a 
furniture  shop.  The  furniture  shop  not  only  provided  furniture  for 
the  Penderlea  homes,  but  for  some  of  the  other  projects.  Most  of 
the  community  construction  was  completed  by  June,  1938. 16 

With  the  exception  of  four  or  five  early  homesteaders  in  the  homes 
completed  by  MacRae,  the  first  group  of  homesteaders  moved  into 
Penderlea  in  the  fall  of  1936.  They  occupied  their  twenty-acre  farms 
and  almost  immediately  came  under  the  supervision  of  farm  and 
home  management  experts.  The  early  homesteaders,  who  were  chosen 
from  rehabilitation  clients  and  submarginal  farmers,  had  to  sub- 

15  Resettlement  Administration,  First  Annual  Report  (Washington,  1936),  p.  77; 
Resettlement  Administration,  "Houses,"  Architectural  Forum,  LXVI  (1937),  490- 
491;  C.  B.  Baldwin  to  Paul  Appleby,  Nov.  10,  1939,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives. 

10  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee  on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1943-1944,  p.  601;  Approved 
Budget  Estimate,  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Memorandum  on  Penderlea 
Homesteads,  n.d.,  ibid.;  Monthly  Report  of  the  Resettlement  Administration  from 
1937  through  1940,  ibid. 


286  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

mit  to  a  medical  examination  before  occupancy.  They  were  fur- 
nished with  livestock,  seed,  feed,  fertilizer,  and  subsistence,  for  all 
of  which  they  executed  personal  notes.  These  notes  later  led  to  com- 
plete confusion,  since  many  of  the  bewildered  homesteaders  were 
unsure  of  how  much  they  owed  the  government.  The  farms  were 
supposed  to  provide  subsistence,  to  support  soil-improvement  crops, 
and  to  allow  a  cash  income  from  marketable  truck  crops.  In  actuality 
the  lack  of  a  large  local  market  for  truck  crops  led  to  the  growing  of 
such  cash  crops  as  tobacco.17 

By  January,  1937,  only  112  families  were  occupying  the  142  com- 
pleted homesteads.  The  remaining  houses  filled  very  slowly,  with 
seventeen  houses  still  vacant  in  September.  By  April,  1938,  as  the 
extra  fifty  homes  were  being  completed,  only  141  families  were  in 
residence.  Many  of  these  families  depended  upon  construction  work 
for  an  income.  A  few  of  the  farmers  learned  skilled  trades  in  con- 
nection with  the  construction  work  and  consequently  felt  so  much 
above  the  status  of  farmers  that  they  employed  others  to  work  their 
farms.  But  when  construction  ended  in  1938,  farming  was  the  only 
recourse.  The  homesteaders,  who  came  to  Penderlea  expecting  to  pur- 
chase their  own  homes,  had  to  submit  to  the  variable-payment,  trial- 
type  leases  and  detailed,  closely  supervised  farm  and  home  plans. 
Their  income  was  closely  budgeted,  with  their  furnishing  loans  from 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  being  disbursed  only  through  a 
joint  banking  account  with  the  community  manager.  As  a  result  of 
delinquencies  on  loan  payments,  one-sixth  of  the  homestead  families 
were  forced  to  leave,  or  voluntarily  left,  the  project  in  1939.  Because 
of  economic  failures  or  complete  dissatisfaction  with  government  poli- 
cies, there  was  a  turnover  of  over  100  per  cent  by  1943. 18 

The  large  school  at  Penderlea  was  a  consolidated  county  school, 
drawing  part  of  its  children  from  areas  adjacent  to  Penderlea.  The 
Resettlement  Administration  subsidized  the  school  by  furnishing  the 
building  and  by  contributing  $1,400  a  year  to  the  principal's  salary. 
The  first  principal  of  the  school  was  selected  by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 

17  W.  M.  Healey  to  C.  B.  Paris,  April  19,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives; 
C.  B.  Paris  to  George  S.  Mitchell,  Feb.  15,  1938,  ibid. 

18  Monthly  Report  of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  May,  1938,  ibid.;  Har- 
old D.  Lasswell,  "Resettlement  Communities:   A  Study  of  the  Problems  of  Per- 
sonalizing Administration,"  n.d.,  p.  17,  ibid.;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Ad- 
ministration, pp.  602-603. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  287 

ministration  to  begin  an  "experimental  progressive"  program,  with  the 
approval  of  the  county  school  superintendent.  Such  practical  courses 
as  shop,  forge  work,  diesel  and  automotive  mechanics,  and  metal- 
work  were  stressed.  Whether  because  of  too  much  enthusiasm  on  the 
part  of  the  young  principal,  because  of  a  natural  conservatism  on 
the  part  of  local  parents,  both  on  and  off  the  project,  or,  as  one  Farm 
Security  Administration  investigator  concluded,  because  of  enmity 
between  the  school  officials  and  the  project  manager,  resulting  in  the 
latter's  efforts  to  discredit  the  school  in  the  eyes  of  the  homesteaders 
and  to  stir  up  sentiment  against  progressive  education,  the  aroused 
parents,  working  through  a  local  school  committee,  fired  the  principal 
at  the  end  of  his  first  year  and  secured  a  more  traditional  school  for 
the  community.19 

As  at  all  rural  communities,  the  great  problem  at  Penderlea  was 
how  to  devise  farm  plans  that  would  permit  the  homesteaders  not 
only  to  maintain  their  new  level  of  living  but  also  allow  them  to 
purchase  their  homesteads.  To  meet  this  problem  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  in  addition  to  close  supervision,  initiated  several  cooper- 
ative enterprises.  In  June  and  July,  1937,  the  Penderlea  Mutual  Associa- 
tion was  formed  as  a  stock  company  under  North  Carolina  law.  It 
received  a  loan  of  $30,670  from  the  Resettlement  Administration, 
using  the  money  to  operate  several  consumer  and  processing  co- 
operatives, such  as  the  gristmill,  the  store,  the  warehouse,  the  potato- 
curing  house,  the  vegetable-grading  and  packing  shed,  the  cane-syrup 
mill,  the  community  cannery,  and  a  filling  station.  The  co-operative 
facilities  were  later  owned  by  a  second  co-operative,  the  Penderlea 
Farms  Homestead  Association,  which  borrowed  a  total  of  $813,100 
from  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  mostly  for  a  hosiery  mill. 
Of  this  sum  none  was  repaid  by  1943,  when  the  first  steps  were  made 
toward  the  liquidation  of  Penderlea.  By  1943  the  Mutual  Association, 
the  operating  co-operative,  had  repaid  only  $7,459.78  of  its  small  loan.20 

Many  of  the  co-operative  facilities  were  seldom  used,  including  the 
warehouse,  cannery,  and  vegetable-grading  shed.  Others  were  mis- 
used. In  1938  the  co-operative  association  was  reprimanded  by  the 
regional  office  for  not  answering  any  correspondence,  sending  no 

"George  Mitchell  to  Harriett  H.  Robson,  Jan.  19,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives;  Lasswell,  "Resettlement  Communities,"  pp.  76-77. 

20  Robert  W.  Strange  to  Mastin  G.  White,  May  28,  1937,  R.G.  96,  National 
Archives;  A  Report  on  the  Condition  of  Co-operatives,  April,  1943,  ibid. 


288  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

minutes  of  meetings  for  four  months,  submitting  no  prescribed  forms, 
continuing  to  grant  credit  despite  positive  orders  to  the  contrary,  not 
writing  down  purchase  orders,  keeping  no  records  on  any  of  the  enter- 
prises, not  recording  toll  telephone  calls,  and  frequently  repairing 
the  gristmill  at  the  expense  of  the  co-operative  rather  than  forcing 
the  dealer  to  make  the  repairs  free  of  cost.21 

Since  practically  every  one  of  the  homesteaders  was  getting  farther 
and  farther  in  debt  to  the  government  year  by  year,  Penderlea  was  selected 
in  1938  as  the  site  of  one  of  the  five  hosiery  mills  financed  by  the  Farm 
Security  Administration.  Utilizing  a  loan  of  $750,000,  the  Penderlea 
Farms  Homestead  Association  constructed  one  of  the  best  hosiery 
mills  in  the  South  and  entered  into  a  managerial  agreement  with  the 
Dexdale  Hosiery  Mills.  The  managing  company  did  not  receive  any 
fee  for  management  above  salaries  and  a  set  percentage  of  profits. 
The  mill  began  operation  with  silk,  but  soon  had  to  convert  to  nylon 
at  a  heavy  cost  for  new  equipment.  Then  World  War  II  forced  an- 
other change  to  rayon,  with  even  the  amount  of  rayon  strictly  limited 
by  the  War  Production  Board.  Wartime  also  brought  a  labor  shortage, 
with  homesteaders  seeking  lucrative  defense  jobs  at  Wilmington  and 
elsewhere.  Only  in  1941  did  the  mill  meet  its  operating  expenses. 
Through  1942  it  had  lost  only  $19,549.77,  but  had  deferred  all  rent 
and  interest  payments  to  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  It  pro- 
vided jobs  for  up  to  100  people,  many  of  whom  were  not  home- 
steaders. By  1943  the  Dexdale  Mills  company  was  recommending 
a  cessation  of  operations  and  the  liquidation  of  the  mill  property.  An 
investigation  by  an  experienced  hosiery  manufacturer  revealed  man- 
agerial inefficiency  and  disinterest  on  the  part  of  the  Dexdale  com- 
pany.22 

Because  of  the  large  turnover  and  low  morale,  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  sent  a  sociologist  to  Penderlea  in  1940  to  study  the 
whole  problem  of  personalizing  administration.  This  study  resulted 
in  a  most  intimate  and  authentic  report  on  social  conditions  in  a 
rural  colony.  The  investigator  found  that  the  poor  morale  resulted 
in  part  from  the  disillusionment  inevitably  following  the  overly  high 
expectations  that  the  homesteaders  had  brought  with  them  to  the 

21  C.  B.  Paris  to  W.  H.  Bobbins,  Nov.  15,  1938,  ibid. 

^Report  on  Hosiery  Mill,  n.d.,  ibid.;  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Adminis- 
tration, pp.  1748-1750,  1762-1763. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  289 

new  project.  They  had  expected  Penderlea  to  provide  them  with  a 
profitable  farm,  marketing  outlets,  an  immediate  opportunity  to  begin 
gaining  an  equity  toward  the  purchase  price  of  their  farm,  a  perfect 
community  life  with  no  feuds,  factions,  or  favorites,  and  co-operative 
stores  with  low  prices  and  high  dividends.  They  were  disappointed 
on  almost  every  count  and  on  none  more  so  than  in  their  constant 
frustration  in  awaiting  a  purchase  contract.  The  most  clear  goal  of 
the  homesteaders  was  ownership,  whereas  new  farming  skills,  better 
farm  and  home  management,  co-operative  and  community  participa- 
tion, and  social  and  cultural  pursuits  were  vague  goals  without  any 
real  meaning  to  most  of  the  homesteaders.  As  annual  lease  followed 
annual  lease,  the  homesteaders  became  apprehensive  over  what  they 
would  have  to  pay  for  their  farms.  They  puzzled  over  whether  the 
government  would  ever  really  permit  them  to  buy  or,  if  permitted 
to  purchase,  whether  they  would  receive  clear  titles.23 

The  homesteaders  at  Penderlea  had  expected  a  friendly,  consistent 
policy  on  the  part  of  the  government,  but  had  found  inconsistency, 
conflicts,  ambivalence,  and,  always,  delays.  Actually  the  homesteaders 
had  very  little  understanding  of  government  processes.  Chance  re- 
marks by  a  government  clerk  became,  in  the  eyes  of  the  homesteaders, 
either  a  binding  promise  or  the  beginning  of  a  spreading  rumor. 
Furthering  the  misunderstandings  were  the  frequent  changes  in  ad- 
ministration, from  MacRae  to  a  centralized  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads  to  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  then  to  the  Farm 
Security  Administration.  Each  change  brought  new  personnel  and  new 
policies.  Inevitably  earlier  commitments  were  sometimes  forgotten 
or  ignored,  leaving  a  legacy  of  ill  will.  The  homesteaders  also  be- 
came disillusioned  with  government-sponsored  enterprises.  The  pack- 
ing shed  aroused  great  hopes,  only  to  end  in  disuse.  The  co-operatives 
did  not  have  lower  prices  and  never  paid  dividends.  Since  the  govern- 
ment made  policies  for  the  co-operatives,  the  homesteaders  believed 
that  the  government  had  the  responsibility  to  make  them  pay  a  profit. 
Even  "their"  community  building  was  kept  locked  by  the  manage- 
ment most  of  the  time,  being  opened  only  for  scheduled  dances  on 
Saturday  night.24 

The  homesteader,  rather  than  finding  economic  security,  was  con- 
stantly frightened  by  his  insecurity.  He  was  afraid  to  repair  his  home 

23  Lasswell,  "Resettlement  Communities,"  pp.  3-5,  9,  13.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  3-7. 


290  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

and  farm  for  fear  the  government  might  not  justly  evaluate  the  repairs 
in  the  final  sale  price.  Since  his  annual  lease  was  a  "trial  lease,"  the 
homesteader  felt  that  he  was  on  his  "good  behavior,"  leading  to 
tension  on  one  hand  and  to  open  subservience  on  the  other.  The 
homesteader  never  considered  his  financial  obligations  to  the  govern- 
ment as  similar  to  private  debts.  He  believed  that  the  government 
should  deal  more  gently  with  him  and  even  perhaps  write  off  part 
of  his  obligation.  Thus  he  always  paid  his  private  debts  and  post- 
poned his  government  obligations.  When  the  government  did  deal 
more  strictly  with  him,  the  homesteader  tended  to  blame  the  local 
officials.25 

The  homesteaders  at  Penderlea  resented  their  lack  of  participation 
in  community  government.  They  felt  that  the  project  manager  and 
other  officials  dictated  all  policy.  Very  rarely  were  the  homesteaders 
consulted  on  policy  decisions.  If  the  project  manager  wished  to  speak 
with  a  settler,  he  did  not  visit  the  homesteader  but  rather  summoned 
him  to  appear  at  his  office  at  a  certain  hour.  Even  in  the  co-operative 
associations  the  actual  decisions  were  made  by  representatives  of  the 
government,  and  an  independent,  homesteader-controlled  farmers' 
organization  met  only  furtively,  fearing  Farm  Security  Administration 
disapproval.  In  justification  of  the  government  officials,  it  should  be 
made  clear  that  the  homesteaders  lacked  even  an  elemental  knowl- 
edge of  parliamentary  procedure  and  tended  toward  factionalism  in 
their  community  alignments.  Only  an  experienced  official  could  have 
led  a  profitable  discussion  in  their  associational  meetings.26 

At  Penderlea  certain  forms  of  social  discrimination  also  irked  the 
homesteaders.  Many  accusations  of  favoritism  were  leveled  against  the 
project  manager,  who  personally  recommended  (the  equivalent  of 
selection)  people  for  employment  in  the  hosiery  mill.  The  manager,  a 
college  graduate  and  former  extension  agent,  lived  in  town  and  com- 
muted to  the  project  each  day.  He  and  his  staff  often  organized 
"oyster  roasts"  and  other  social  affairs,  holding  them  forty  miles  from 
the  project  and  inviting  only  the  schoolteachers.  He  seldom  attended 
homestead  functions,  such  as  movies  and  dances.  His  paternal  attitude 
toward  the  homesteaders  was  reflected  in  the  following  reported  state- 
ment: "These  people  are  just  like  children  and  you  have  to  treat  them 

*Ibid.,  pp.  10,  16-18.  '"Ibid.,  pp.  14-15,  22-25,  34-35. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  291 

that  way."  27  On  the  other  hand,  some  lesser  project  officials,  who 
showed  a  sincere  interest  in  and  a  close  identification  with  the 
homesteaders,  were  well  loved.  At  first  the  homesteaders  were  resented 
by  the  local  farmers,  who  were  probably  jealous  over  the  good  homes 
and  other  benefits  bestowed  upon  the  people  in  the  colony.  This  out- 
side opposition  was  lessened  by  contacts  at  school,  local  dances,  and 
youth  meetings.28 

Incentives  for  effort  at  Penderlea  tended  to  vanish  along  with  the 
loss  of  faith  in  the  earlier  goals  and  promises.  The  strongest  incentive 
for  maintaining  payments  on  loans — social  pressure — was  completely 
lacking,  since  almost  every  family  was  delinquent.  Furthermore,  the 
widespread  resentment  against  the  government  was  not  conducive 
to  high  morale.  Most  resented  was  the  invasion  of  privacy  resulting 
from  the  joint  banking  accounts,  the  detailed  farm  and  home  plans, 
the  frequent  advice,  the  multiple  forms  to  fill,  the  record  keeping, 
the  inspections  by  visiting  officials,  and  the  fearful  submission  to 
questioning  of  all  types  by  both  government  officials  and  academic 
researchers.  According  to  the  homesteaders,  one  man  went  around 
asking  people  how  many  pairs  of  underwear  they  had.  One  wife  even 
stated  that  "one  of  the  hardest  things  to  get  used  to  here  on  the 
project  is  the  conveniences."  29  A  schoolboy  on  the  project  composed 
the  following  verse  which  indicates  some  of  the  resentment: 

On  the  farm  we  have  busted  pumps 
And  lots  of  trouble  burning  stumps, 
While  white-collared  big  shots  hang  around 
To  show  the  farmer  how  to  tend  the  ground.30 

By  the  end  of  1942  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  forced 
to  make  one  final  alteration  at  Penderlea.  At  this  time  the  number  of 
farm  units  was  reduced  from  192  to  109  larger  units,  leaving  82  surplus 
houses  which  were  rented  to  defense  workers.  To  find  operators  for 
even  this  number  of  units  the  Farm  Security  Administration  had  to 
import  fifty  farmers  from  the  mountains  of  western  North  Carolina  in 
1943.  By  this  time  159  tenants  had  moved  away  from  Penderlea, 
mostly  from  1939  through  1942.  They  all  left  owing  the  government 
money,  in  amounts  varying  from  $47  to  $3,240  and  averaging  over 

*lbid.,  pp.  12,  22,  26,  31.  2S  Ibid.,  pp.  31-33,  38. 

29  Ibid.,  pp.  36-37,  40-42,  72.  30  Ibid.,  p.  63. 


292  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

$1,000.  The  new  homesteaders  of  1943  each  received  operating  loans 
of  from  $300  to  $800.  The  old  homesteaders,  three  of  whom  had 
been  on  the  project  since  1935,  were,  except  in  two  cases,  in  debt 
to  the  government  for  amounts  up  to  $5,031.  Yet,  for  the  first  time, 
the  project  was  on  a  sound  economic  basis,  with  many  homesteaders 
making  splendid  progress,  aided  by  wartime  prices.  In  most  cases  the 
farmers  had  assets  that  more  than  covered  their  debts.  As  a  result  of 
this  beginning  prosperity,  the  first  farming  units  (nine)  were  sold 
to  homesteaders  in  March,  1943,  at  $3,020  each.31 

The  major  criticism  of  Penderlea  was  its  cost.  By  1943  the  govern- 
ment had  expended  $2,277,685.60  at  Penderlea,  or  nearly  $11,000  for 
each  completed  family  unit.  In  defense  of  this  large  figure,  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  pointed  to  the  amount  spent  by  the  co- 
operative association,  the  cost  of  the  community  facilities,  and  the 
unused  reserve  land.  Subtracting  those  items,  it  estimated  the  real 
cost  of  each  homestead  to  be  only  $7,990.  As  if  to  prove  the  per- 
versity of  statistics,  the  congressional  critics  of  Penderlea  added  to 
the  costs  of  Penderlea  the  amount  obviously  lost  on  loans  to  home- 
steaders, the  amount  expended  in  direct  relief  grants,  the  loss  in 
maintenance  and  operation,  and,  most  important,  the  amount  of  in- 
terest the  government  had  to  pay  on  the  borrowed  funds  invested 
in  Penderlea.  This  raised  the  total  cost  to  $3,107,122.  Since  there 
remained  only  109  operating  units,  this  made  a  unit  cost  of  $28,506. 
Counting  the  approximate  $2,000  owed  by  each  homesteader  to  the 
government  and  also  adding  the  interest  he  should  have  been  paying 
on  his  loans,  the  total  amount  each  homesteader  owed  the  govern- 
ment, according  to  critics,  was  not  $7,990  but  approximately  $35,000. 
Comparable  farms  in  the  area  were  selling  for  about  $3,000.32 

By  December  31,  1944,  only  forty-eight  homesteads  had  been  sold 
at  Penderlea,  these  at  an  average  price  of  only  $3,354.  Also  sold  was 
the  hosiery  mill,  at  a  good  price  of  $604,000.  By  June,  30,  1945,  sixty- 
six  homesteads  had  been  liquidated  at  an  average  price  of  $3,1 10.33 
The  other  homesteads  were  sold  in  the  next  two  years,  during  which 

31  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  pp.  601-603,  605-609,  1089. 

32  Ibid.,  pp.  489,  609-610. 

83  House  Agricultural  Subcommittee  of  the  Committee  on  Appropriations,  Hear- 
ings on  Agricultural  Department  Appropriation  Bill  for  1946,  pt.  n,  79th  Cong., 
1st  Sess.,  1945,  pp.  519,  535,  and  Hearings  on  Agricultural  Department  Appropria- 
tion Bill  for  1947,  79th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1946,  p.  1414. 


Penderlea  Homesteads  293 

time  the  Farm  Security  Administration  was  absorbed  by  the  Farmers' 
Home  Administration.  Because  of  the  rapid  turnover  at  Penderlea,  very 
few  of  the  original  homesteaders  were  still  on  the  project  at  the  time 
of  liquidation.  The  difficulties  at  Penderlea,  both  in  terms  of  economic 
insecurity  and  project  management,  were  all  too  often  duplicated  at 
other  farming  colonies.  But  Penderlea  was  unique  in  two  ways:  it  was 
the  first  farm  colony  and,  per  capita,  it  was  the  most  expensive. 


X  XIII 


Granger  Homesteads— An  Escape 
from  Modernity 


FROM  the  inception  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program 
through  the  Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security 
Administration,  the  community  program  of  the  New  Deal  moved 
ever  farther  away  from  the  ideological  presuppositions  of  most  of  the 
back-to-the-land  adherents  and  especially  from  the  explicit,  doctri- 
naire philosophy  of  the  distributist  school  of  agrarians.  Although  the 
ever-pervasive  idea  of  the  superiority  of  family-based  agriculture  was 
largely  adhered  to,  and  even  though  fee  simple  ownership  was  seri- 
ously challenged  in  only  a  limited  number  of  projects,  the  leaders  in 
the  community-building  program  were  not  at  all  sympathetic  with 
the  strong  emphasis  on  individualism  and  the  ever-present  distrust  of 
government  that  characterized  the  agrarians.  As  a  result  of  this  ideo- 
logical divergence,  Ralph  Borsodi,  the  most  dogmatic  of  distributists, 
quit  his  project  at  Dayton  in  disgust  over  governmental  policies.  At 
Penderlea  a  less  dogmatic  agrarian,  Hugh  MacRae,  soon  resigned  from 
the  directorship  of  his  special  project.  Only  in  the  case  of  Granger 
Homesteads  in  Iowa  did  the  agrarian,  distributist  school  of  thought 
remain  important  in  the  actual  development  of  a  New  Deal  commu- 
nity. This  was  through  the  work  of  one  man,  Father  Luigi  G.  Ligutti, 
a  member  of  and  later  head  of  the  National  Catholic  Rural  Life  Con- 

294 


Granger  Homesteads  295 

ference  and  one  of  the  most  influential  of  American  agrarians  and  dis- 
tributists. 

From  M.  L.  Wilson  through  Tugwell,  Alexander,  and  Baldwin,  the 
leaders  of  the  community  program  were  at  one  in  accepting  the  in- 
dustrial revolution  and  its  effects  on  both  city  and  country.  They  all, 
with  varying  types  of  reactions,  disclaimed  any  divine  or  absolute 
sanctity  for  various  political,  economic,  and  social  institutions  that  had 
survived  from  a  nonindustrial  past  and  had  seemingly  proved  insuffi- 
cient for  modern  man.  They  all  desired  new,  better-suited  institutions 
which,  in  most  cases,  they  wished  to  achieve  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  the  federal  government.  M.  L.  Wilson  was  unique  in  empha- 
sizing the  necessity  of,  and  the  difficulty  in,  reconciling  the  past  with 
the  present  and  in  exhibiting  a  profound  sympathy  for,  and  a  senti- 
mental attachment  to,  many  of  the  values  and  many  of  the  institutions 
of  an  older  America.  He  was  particularly  anxious  that  reforms  be 
thoroughly  democratic  in  execution  and,  in  the  end,  enhance  democ- 
racy. Tugwell  was  bitter  in  his  repudiation  of  past  institutions  and 
values  and  most  enthusiastic  and  thoroughgoing  in  his  reforms.  Tradi- 
tion suffered  at  his  hands,  and  in  the  hands  of  his  successors. 

To  the  distributist  agrarians,  one  of  the  most  reactionary  groups  in 
America,  industrialism  was  the  great  enemy  of  mankind.  Modern  man, 
enslaved  by  the  machine  and  the  centralized  factory,  could  find  salva- 
tion only  in  a  return  to  a  decentralized  economic  system  which  would 
permit  each  man  access  to  wealth-producing  property.  State  socialism, 
or  bureaucratic  collectivism,  simply  represented  another  type  of  slav- 
ery, whatever  its  doubtful  economic  benefits.  Thus,  the  distributists 
erected  as  an  economic  ideal  the  agrarian  nation  of  small  farmers 
envisioned  by  Jefferson.  As  a  whole,  the  agrarians  were  authoritarian 
and  moralistic.  Institutions,  such  as  private  property,  were  sacred 
either  because  ordained  by  God,  because  of  a  revered  tradition,  or 
because  they  fulfilled  an  ethical  purpose  in  man's  life.  Yet,  separated 
from  a  concept  of  moral  responsibility,  such  institutions  could  be  cor- 
rupted by  selfish  individuals,  such  as  had  been  the  case  with  modern 
capitalism,  which  the  distributists  denounced  as  immoral  and  vulgar. 
Their  reaction  to  modern  society  was  really  one  of  moral  and  aesthetic 
repugnance,  springing  from  an  absolutist  concept  of  man  and  the 
natural  world.  Reform  did  not  mean,  in  fact  could  not  mean,  new  in- 
stitutions, since  the  traditional  institutions  were  firmly  rooted  in  real- 


296  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

ity.  Reform  could  mean  only  moral  reform,  a  renewed  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility, a  faithful  return  to  traditional  ideals,  a  purification  of 
corrupted  institutions.  Such  personalized  reform  had  to  spring  directly 
from  individuals,  working  perhaps  in  small,  localized  groups.  Large, 
centralized  governments  could  and  should  provide  the  necessary 
means  to  this  reform;  they  must  not  direct  or  control  the  reformation. 

Besides  being  the  one  project  that  accurately  reflected  the  distrib- 
utist  influence,  Granger  Homesteads  was  also  one  of  the  most  success- 
ful of  the  New  Deal  communities.  Arthurdale,  Jersey  Homesteads,  and 
Penderlea,  although  the  most  publicized  of  the  communities,  were  also 
the  ones  that  suffered  the  most  delays,  exhibited  the  most  mistakes, 
and  cost  the  most  money.  To  judge  all  the  communities  by  these  three 
would  be  most  unfair.  Some  of  the  industrial  homesteads,  a  group  of 
which  Granger  was  a  part,  were  constructed  with  little  delay  and  few 
errors.  Many,  such  as  Longview  and  El  Monte,  repaid  or  nearly  re- 
paid the  government's  investment.  Others,  and  notably  Granger,  ful- 
filled most  of  the  objectives  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  program, 
even  though  they  did  not  liquidate  at  or  near  cost. 

Father  Ligutti  came  to  Granger,  Iowa,  a  farm  village  of  about  300 
inhabitants,  in  1926  to  take  over  the  pastorate  of  the  local  Catholic 
church.  Granger  was  located  in  a  coal-mining  area  north  of  Des 
Moines.  Several  hundred  miners  worked  in  nine  local  coal  mines,  liv- 
ing in  five  different  mining  camps,  with  sordid,  dismal  four-room 
houses,  no  churches,  poor  schools,  and  no  areas  for  recreation.  During 
the  depression  the  miners,  at  best,  worked  only  during  the  winter 
months,  receiving  relief  payments  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  Ligutti,  a 
member  of  the  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference  and  a  convinced  back- 
to-the-lander,  was  very  anxious  to  move  the  miners  onto  the  land  as 
part-time  farmers,  but  had  no  means  to  do  this  until  the  organization 
of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The  Granger  area  then 
seemed  ideally  suited  for  a  homestead  project.  In  addition  to  the  needy 
miners,  who  had  the  required  part-time  employment,  there  was  plenty 
of  good  Iowa  farm  land,  a  village  with  community  facilities,  and,  very 
important,  the  nearby  Iowa  State  College,  which  could  lend  advice 
and  assistance.  In  September,  1933,  Ligutti  got  in  touch  with  the  Di- 
vision of  Subsistence  Homesteads  about  a  project  for  the  Granger 
area.1 

1"Soil  Defeats  Poverty,  No.  19 — Granger  Homesteads,  Granger,  Iowa,"  Scho- 
lastic, XXXIX  (Nov.  10,  1941),  14;  Luigi  G.  Ligutti,  "The  Story  of  the  Granger 


Granger  Homesteads  297 

Ligutti's  original  plan  was  for  a  part-time  farming  community, 
which  would  accommodate  fifty  families  on  five-acre  garden  plots, 
all  near  the  churches  and  schools  of  Granger.  He  desired  a  careful 
selection  of  settlers  from  among  those  employed  part  time  and  wanted 
to  limit  the  cost  of  each  homestead  to  $2,000.  On  November  27,  1933, 
Ligutti  consulted  with  the  president  and  other  officials  of  Iowa  State 
College,  receiving  promises  of  aid.  He  also  received  wide  public  sup- 
port from  the  Catholic  Church,  labor  leaders,  coal  companies,  and 
even  the  Iowa  legislature.  Local  sponsors,  in  addition  to  Ligutti,  in- 
cluded an  editor,  a  banker,  an  attorney,  and  a  physician,  all  Protes- 
tants. On  December  13,  1933,  a  detailed  plan  for  the  project  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  accordance  with 
early  policies  in  the  division.  The  plan  was  tentatively  approved  in 
February,  1934,  with  the  Iowa  State  College  making  the  land  surveys 
of  a  carefully  selected  tract  of  land  about  one-fourth  of  a  mile  from 
Granger.  This  tract  of  approximately  225  acres  was  visited  by  Carl  C. 
Taylor  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  and  was  appraised 
by  the  Federal  Land  Bank.  Final  approval  for  the  project  was  secured 
on  March  4,  1934,  with  a  promise  of  a  $100,000  loan.  The  loan  request, 
which  was  soon  raised  to  $125,000,  was  approved  on  July  16,  1934.2 

In  conformity  with  the  early  policies  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads,  as  well  as  with  the  personal  views  of  Ligutti,  a  local 
homesteads  corporation  was  formed  in  March,  1934.  This  local  corpora- 
tion planned  to  allow  the  homesteaders  to  construct  their  own  homes 
under  the  self-help  idea,  but  almost  as  soon  as  the  corporation  was 
formed  it  had  to  accept  more  supervision  from  Washington.  A  memo- 
randum of  April  1,  1934,  limited  the  corporation  to  guidance  and  su- 
pervision, with  the  real  direction  being  placed  in  a  project  manager, 
who  was  appointed  on  May  1,  1934.  Complete  centralization  later  in 
May  ended  all  the  authority  on  the  part  of  the  local  corporation.  This 
federalization,  although  stripping  Ligutti  and  his  friends  of  any  official 
status,  did  not  result  in  any  serious  conflict  between  the  Division  of 


Homesteads,"  Iowa  Bureau  Farmer,  II  (Feb.,  1938),  7;  Raymond  P.  Duggan,  A 
Federal  Resettlement  Project — Granger  Homesteads  (Washington,  1937),  pp.  21, 
35;  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942),  pp.  106-107. 

2  Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  31-32,  35-39,  41-43;  W.  C. 
Taylor,  "Priest  Directs  Allotment  Plan:  Colony  in  Iowa  Coal  Town,"  Christian 
Century,  LI  (1934),  568. 


298  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Subsistence  Homesteads  and  the  local  sponsors.  Ligutti  continued  to 
exert  a  tremendous  influence  on  project  management  and  later  became 
the  godfather  of  the  homesteaders.  The  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads continued  to  seek  his  advice  and  welcome  his  support.  Yet 
Ligutti  deplored  the  centralization,  seeing  in  it  many  dangers,  such 
as  unwarranted  interference  from  Washington  and  an  unprecedented 
interference  by  the  government  in  the  private  affairs  of  citizens.  He 
expressed  his  view  of  the  role  of  the  state  as  follows:  "Indeed  it  is  a 
familiar  and  well-tested  axiom  that  a  government  governs  best  which 
governs  least.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  State  to  provide  sufficient  means  to 
its  citizens  in  order  that  they,  by  diligent  application,  may  secure  for 
themselves  temporal  prosperity."3 

The  development  of  Granger  Homesteads  was  not  without  mistakes, 
but  was  certainly  less  eventful  than  most  of  the  other  projects.  The 
topographical  surveys  were  made  by  Iowa  State  College,  with  the  224 
acres  of  land  being  divided  into  fifty  homestead  plots  of  from  2.32  to 
8.65  acres.  The  final  purchase  of  the  land  was  long  delayed,  since  the 
early  appraisal  had  not  included  one  small  section  and  had  to  be  re- 
done, as  had  to  be  the  original  survey.  Meanwhile  the  county  had 
agreed  to  furnish  roads;  this  necessitated  a  decision  from  the  Attorney 
General,  which  was  not  received  until  September,  1934.  Finally,  one 
owner  refused  to  sell  until  October.  The  final  purchase  price  was 
$27,365.99,  or  approximately  $122.00  an  acre.  One  other  problem  de- 
layed construction.  The  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  originally 
planned  to  construct  prefabricated,  one-story  homes,  but  ran  into  the 
determined  opposition  of  the  local  sponsors,  who  insisted  on  full  base- 
ments to  satisfy  the  desires  of  the  homesteaders.  The  end  result  of  the 
controversy  was  an  increase  in  the  original  loan  to  $175,000  in  order 
to  cover  the  added  cost  of  basements.  After  the  receipt  of  several 
bids,  the  actual  contract  for  the  construction  of  the  fifty  homes  was  let 
on  January  24,  1935,  for  $86,130,  plus  an  extra  $1,125  for  the  installa- 
tion of  plumbing.4 

The  construction  at  Granger  was  rapid.  With  approximately  200 
laborers  employed,  the  wood-frame  homes  were  completed  by  Octo- 

3Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  41-44;  Luigi  G.  Ligutti  and 
John  C.  Rawe,  Rural  Roads  to  Security:  America's  Third  Struggle  for  Freedom 
(Milwaukee,  1940),  pp.  173-174. 

4  Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  89-94,  97-99;  Pynchon  to  Ickes, 
Dec.  28,  1934,  and  Feb.  5,  1935,  R.G.  48,  National  Archives. 


Granger  Homesteads  299 

ber,  1935.  The  homes  had  from  four  to  six  rooms,  with  the  five-  and 
six-room  homes  including  a  second  floor.  All  had  full  basements  which 
contained  the  hot-air  furnaces  and  the  hot- water  tanks.  The  home- 
steader had  his  choice  of  either  a  barn  or  a  combination  garage  and 
poultry  house.  Only  twelve  chose  the  barn.  The  outbuildings  cost 
$11,760.  Water  for  each  house  was  supplied  by  individual  wells  and 
electric  pumps,  which  were  housed  in  small  pump  houses.  The  pumps 
froze  the  first  year  and  had  to  be  placed  lower  in  the  ground.  Delay 
over  electric  supply  forced  the  homesteaders  to  wait  until  December 
15,  1935,  before  moving  into  their  new  homes.5 

The  homesteaders  at  Granger  were  first  selected  by  a  local  commit- 
tee, headed  by  Ligutti,  and  then  eventually  approved  by  the  Division 
of  Subsistence  Homesteads.  The  Department  of  Economics  and  Soci- 
ology at  Iowa  State  prepared  a  questionnaire  and  application  blank 
for  the  committee  and  furnished  a  social  worker  for  the  personal  in- 
terviews. Later,  new  forms  were  supplied  by  the  Division  of  Subsis- 
tence Homesteads.  Despite  the  forms,  however,  selection  was  largely 
based  on  the  personal  knowledge  of  the  applicants  by  Ligutti  and 
others  on  the  committee,  rather  than  on  arbitrary  criteria.  Several  of 
the  applications  approved  at  the  local  level  were  refused  acceptance 
at  Washington,  in  some  cases  because  of  incomes  in  excess  of  $1,500.6 

Forty-one  of  the  fifty  family  heads  selected  were  miners  or  mine 
clerks.  The  others  included  a  farmer,  a  bookkeeper,  a  barber,  a  brick- 
layer, a  mechanic,  a  carpenter,  a  railroad  brakeman,  and  a  streetcar 
operator.  All  were  employed  part  time,  with  yearly  incomes  ranging 
from  $600  to  $1,720.  Most  significantly,  they  represented  several  na- 
tionalities. Eighteen  families  were  Italian,  eleven  were  Croatian,  and 
at  least  one  each  was  Austrian,  Lettish,  Lithuanian,  Slovakian,  Irish, 
Dutch,  English,  and  American.  Thirty-three  families  were  Catholic. 
In  many  cases  the  families  were  large,  ranging  up  to  thirteen  mem- 
bers. Altogether  there  were  252  people.  The  homesteaders  were  en- 
thusiastic about  the  project,  a  majority  applying  for  a  homestead  in 
order  to  achieve  homeownership.7 

The  objective  of  Granger  Homesteads  was  the  improvement  of  both 

5  Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  93-94,  101,  104-105. 

6  Ibid.,  pp.  41-49;  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  108. 

7  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.   107;  Ligutti,  "The  Story  of  the 
Granger  Homesteads,"  p.  7;  Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  53-72. 


300  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  economic  and  social  conditions  of  the  homesteaders.  This  was  to 
be  accomplished  by  teaching  husbandry  and  subsistence  farming,  by 
forming  group  endeavors  in  order  to  encourage  thrift,  good  manage- 
ment, and  co-operation,  and  by  organizing  formal  and  informal  social 
organizations  to  develop  a  consciousness  of  community.  All  these  ob- 
jectives were  at  least  partially  realized,  none  more  so  than  subsistence 
agriculture.  Part-time  farming  at  Granger  was  probably  more  success- 
ful than  in  any  other  project.  The  large  families,  the  good  soil,  the 
inherent  love  of  the  land  present  in  many  of  the  Europeans,  the  lack 
of  industrial  employment  during  the  summer  growing  season,  and  the 
competent  advice  from  Ligutti,  Iowa  State  College,  and  the  project 
manager  were  all  contributing  factors  in  the  success.  In  the  first  year 
of  occupancy  the  homestead  plots  yielded  an  estimated  $1,190  worth 
of  vegetables  and  $2,485  worth  of  field  crops.  Every  homesteader  had 
a  garden,  eighteen  already  had  one  or  more  cows,  seven  families  had 
hogs,  and  thirty-nine  had  poultry.  By  1939  the  average  annual  value 
of  garden  crops  per  family  was  $300.  By  then  the  orchards  were  be- 
ginning to  produce  and  biodynamic  compost  heaps  were  being  tried. 
At  the  end  of  1940  the  homesteaders  owned  36  cows  and  195  hogs,  and 
in  that  year  the  women  canned  40,000  quarts  of  food.  By  1941  there 
were  65  cows  and  350  hogs.  No  one  was  on  relief  after  1935.8 

Much  of  the  credit  for  molding  diverse  families  and  nationalities 
into  a  close-knit  community  at  Granger  belonged  to  Father  Ligutti. 
He  preached  to  the  homesteaders  on  Sunday,  taught  them  in  the 
parochial  schools  on  weekdays,  lectured  them  on  co-operation,  at- 
tended their  meetings,  visited  their  homes,  and  guarded  their  morals. 
For  different  ideological  reasons,  Ligutti  and  the  other  members  of 
the  Catholic  Rural  Life  Conference  put  as  much  stress  on  the  com- 
munity and  on  co-operation  as  did  Tugwell  and  other  leaders  in  the 
Resettlement  Administration.  Whereas  economic  necessity  and  social 
need  justified  government  support  for  co-operatives  in  the  eyes  of 
Tugwell,  Ligutti  viewed  co-operation  not  only  as  a  possible  economic 
boon  but  as  a  moral  compulsion.  To  him  co-operation  was  almost 
synonymous  with  unselfishness.  He  said:  "We  consider  willingness  to 

8  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  108-110;  Duggan,  A  Federal  Re- 
settlement Project,  pp.  108-112;  Edward  Skillin,  Jr.,  "Granger  Homesteads," 
Commonweal,  XXXII  (1940),  94-95;  C.  Edward  Wolf,  "Granger's  Fifth  Birthday," 
ibid.,  XXXIII  (1941),  348;  "Soil  Defeats  Poverty,"  p.  14. 


Granger  Homesteads  301 

help,  Christian  charity,  and  the  golden  rule  as  essentials  for  individual 
success  or  for  the  community  advancement.  The  above  are  essentials. 
The  people  must  regard  themselves  as  the  main  spokes  in  the  wheel  of 
success  or  failure."  9  Much  of  Ligutti's  view  of  the  community,  and 
even  more  the  views  of  some  of  his  colleagues,  harked  back  to  the 
corporate  society  of  the  Middle  Ages,  before  the  acquisitive  rationale 
of  capitalism  had  captured  men's  minds.  To  Ligutti,  property  and 
human  industry  had  no  moral  justification  apart  from  use  or  need  and 
were  sinful  if  directed  toward  mere  accumulation  as  an  end  in  itself. 
Co-operation  resulting  from  individual  obedience  to  a  God-given 
moral  law  may  be  very  different  from  co-operation  based  on  a  frank 
acceptance  of  utilitarian  ends  and  on  the  use  of  the  leveling  power 
of  government,  but,  in  any  case,  it  too  is  co-operation.  In  their  mutual 
hatred  of  capitalism  and  their  mutual  desire  for  co-operative  institu- 
tions, Tugwell  and  Ligutti  could  unite. 

Co-operative  organization  at  Granger  was  less  ambitious,  but  more 
successful,  than  at  most  other  projects.  The  largest  co-operative  was 
the  one  for  buying,  selling,  and  manufacturing.  It  permitted  savings  in 
the  purchase  of  seed,  feed,  and  fertilizer  and  promoted  the  economical 
sale  of  canned  goods.  In  1939  its  members  borrowed  a  modest  $800 
from  the  Farm  Security  Administration  for  a  cannery.  A  second  co- 
operative owned  some  heavy  farm  machinery  which  was  used  by  all 
the  homesteaders.  Perhaps  most  successful  was  the  credit  union,  which 
made  small  loans  available  to  the  homesteaders  for  the  purchase  of 
livestock  and  other  necessities.  The  financial  success  of  these  co- 
operatives may  have  resulted  from  their  slow,  conservative  growth 
based  on  acceptance  and  real  need.10 

A  socially  integrated  community  at  Granger  had  to  be  achieved  in 
the  face  of  obvious  divisions  and  cliques  based  on  kinship,  differing 
nationalities,  native  languages,  and  old-world  customs.  Many  of  the 
homesteaders  spoke  little  English,  and  some  of  the  housewives  lived 
in  the  basements,  decorating  their  first  floor  with  needlework,  photo- 
graphs, and  bric-a-brac  in  typical  European  fashion.  The  social  cleav- 
age was  slowly  broken  down  by  adult  classes,  attendance  at  lectures 
by  Iowa  State  experts,  co-operative  organization,  attendance  at  the 
Catholic  Church,  attendance  by  the  children  at  the  local  parish  school, 

0  Ligutti  and  Rawe,  Rural  Roads  to  Security,  p.  153. 
10  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  110-111. 


302  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

and  community  athletics.  Most  of  the  community  guidance  was  left 
to  Ligutti  and  the  community  manager,  although  in  1939  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  contributed  a  new  community  center,  which 
gave  the  homesteaders  a  meeting  place.  Perhaps  the  most  important 
social  event  of  the  year  at  Granger  Homesteads  was  the  annual  fair 
in  August.  Here  the  homesteaders  all  co-operated,  displaying  farm 
products  and  craftwork,  hearing  speeches,  and  watching  athletic 
events  and  folk  dances  performed  in  old-world  costumes.11 

The  educational  and  handicraft  activities  at  Granger  Homesteads 
were  largely  under  the  direction  of  Ligutti  and  were  centered  in  the 
local  Catholic  school,  which  was  in  the  nearby  village  of  Granger. 
Ligutti  advocated  a  new  type  of  homestead  school  where  there  could 
be  training  in  religious  motivation  for  the  new  way  of  life,  in  problems 
of  property,  liberty,  and  democracy,  in  co-operation,  in  health,  educa- 
tion, and  recreation,  in  scientific  farming  methods,  and  in  home  pro- 
duction. He  practically  converted  his  parochial  school  into  just  such 
an  experiment.  The  boys  from  the  homesteads  learned  arts  and  crafts 
in  the  school  shop,  while  the  girls  learned  to  knit,  weave,  sew,  and 
care  for  children  as  a  preparation  for  "Home  Life  on  the  Land."  Ac- 
cording to  Ligutti,  "women  have  been  so  constituted  by  God  that  they 
lose  much  unless  home  life  is  their  ideal."  When  Ligutti  left  Granger 
in  1941  to  become  executive  secretary  of  the  National  Catholic  Rural 
Life  Conference,  his  successor  in  the  parish,  Father  John  J.  Gorman, 
continued  the  unique  educational  program.12 

One  objective  of  Ligutti,  the  other  local  sponsors,  and  the  home- 
steaders— homeownership — was  long  unfulfilled.  The  homesteaders 
were  under  Temporary  licensing  agreements  until  1942,  when  a  local 
homestead  association  (the  last  one  formed  by  the  Farm  Security 
Administration)  assumed  title  to  the  project  and  made  purchase  con- 
tracts with  the  homesteaders.  The  delay  was  caused  by  constantly 
worsening  economic  conditions  in  the  low-grade  Iowa  coal  mines. 
Year  by  year  the  Granger  family  heads  found  less  and  less  employment 
until  a  wartime  boom  relieved  the  employment  problem.  The  tempo- 

uDuggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project,  pp.  140-145;  Lord  and  Johnstone, 
A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  111-112. 

12  Ligutti  and  Rawe,  Rural  Roads  to  Security,  p.  114;  Ligutti,  "The  Story  of  the 
Granger  Homesteads,"  p.  8. 


Granger  Homesteads  303 

rary  licensing  agreements  averaged  $15.73  a  month,  with  considerable 
delinquency  resulting  in  seasons  of  unemployment.  The  economic 
conditions  at  Granger  provoked  a  desire  either  for  a  factory  at  the 
homesteads  or  for  a  co-operative  farm,  which,  very  naturally,  was  ad- 
vocated by  Ligutti.  Neither  plan  was  implemented,  although  land  for 
the  farm  was  appraised.13 

Granger  Homesteads  was  most  extensively  publicized  through  the 
Catholic  press  and  thus  was  believed  by  many  people  to  be  the  nearest 
thing  to  Utopia  imaginable.  In  Des  Moines  and  surrounding  areas  of 
Iowa  the  project  evoked  the  usual  curiosity,  with  many  people  visit- 
ing the  project,  especially  at  fair  time.  The  villagers  in  Granger  were 
more  hostile  to  the  project,  partly  because  of  jealousy  toward  the 
homesteaders,  partly  because  the  project  did  not  lead  to  a  large  in- 
crease in  local  business,  and  also  because  they  believed  that  the  gov- 
ernment was  coddling  the  homesteaders.  The  homesteaders  them- 
selves were  often  apprehensive  about  economic  opportunities  and 
about  their  lack  of  ownership,  but  liked  their  homes,  as  a  whole  kept 
them  in  good  repair,  and  seemed  to  appreciate  the  opportunities  given 
them  by  the  government.14 

Granger  Homesteads  cost  the  government  approximately  $216,- 
189.87,  or  about  $4,324  per  homestead  unit.  The  cost  probably  very 
closely  approximated  the  value  of  the  homesteads  in  1942,  although 
they  were  sold  to  the  homestead  association  for  just  less  than  $100,000, 
which  was  based  on  the  ability  of  the  homesteaders  to  pay.  Just  after 
transference  to  the  homestead  association,  Granger  Homesteads  was 
turned  over  to  the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  for  the  collec- 
tion of  payments  on  the  purchase  contract.  With  wartime  prosperity 
the  homesteaders  made  less  and  less  use  of  their  subsistence  plots  for 
truck  crops,  partly  because  of  a  lack  of  time.  Instead  they  increased 
the  field  crops  and  the  number  of  farm  animals.  The  original  commu- 
nity plan  was  protected  by  deed  restrictions.  As  time  passed,  the  local 
hostility  slowly  lessened.  In  1956  approximately  thirty-five  of  the  origi- 
nal families  were  still  on  the  project.  The  co-operatives  were  inactive 
with  the  exception  of  the  credit  union.15  The  following  evaluation  of 
Granger,  made  in  1942,  is  probably  still  appropriate: 

13 Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  pp.  113-116.  "Ibid.,  p.  117. 

15  Letter  to  author  from  Father  John  J.  Gorman,  Nov.  5,  1956. 


304  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

Granger  Homesteads  is  no  Utopia  nor  will  it  ever  be.  In  all  the  idealistic 
planning  of  the  subsistence-homesteads  program  there  was  no  thought  of 
making  gifts,  there  was  only  the  thought  of  providing  opportunities.  At 
Granger,  these  opportunities  can  be  realized  only  through  a  program  of  hard 
work,  education,  and  self-denial.  Eighty  percent  of  the  original  families  at 
the  end  of  6  years  are  still  pursuing  such  a  program,  in  the  hope  and  be- 
lief of  eventual  security  for  themselves  and  their  descendents.  With  the  pro- 
gram admittedly  an  experiment,  only  the  objectives  were  defined.  Methods 
and  procedures  were  to  be  worked  out  as  necessity  arose.  At  Granger,  the 
methods  have  been  sound  and  the  objectives  are  gradually  being  attained. 
Six  years  is  not  a  long  time  in  which  to  effect  great  changes  in  patterns  of 
human  behavior.16 

16  Lord  and  Johnstone,  A  Place  on  Earth,  p.  118. 


XIV 


The  Greenbelt  Towns 


IN  the  greenbelt  towns  the  community  idea  was  applied  to  urban 
planning  and  led  to  the  three  largest,  most  ambitious,  and  most  signifi- 
cant communities  of  the  New  Deal.  The  greenbelt  towns  remain  the 
grandest  monuments  of  Rexford  G.  Tugwell's  work  in  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration.  In  world- wide  influence  they  rank  high  among 
New  Deal  accomplishments;  in  the  field  of  public  works  they  were 
hardly  excelled,  even  by  the  Tennessee  Valley  Authority,  in  imagina- 
tion, in  breaking  with  precedents,  and  in  broad  social  objectives.  They 
represented,  and  still  do  represent,  the  most  daring,  original,  and 
ambitious  experiments  in  public  housing  in  the  history  of  the  United 
States.  Although  only  three  of  approximately  100  New  Deal  communi- 
ties, the  greenbelt  towns  absorbed  over  one-third  of  the  total  cost  and 
nearly  one-fourth  of  the  total  settlers  of  the  whole  community  pro- 
gram. 

The  three  completed  greenbelt  cities  represented  the  culmination 
of  the  garden  city  movement  in  America.  They  remain  the  nearest 
American  approximation  of  Ebenezer  Howard's  garden  city  idea  and 
were  the  direct  successors  of  the  housing  and  planning  experiment  by 
garden  city  exponents  at  Radburn,  New  Jersey.  They  combined  the 
principal  ideas  of  Howard  with  the  new,  automobile-inspired  plan- 
ning techniques  first  attempted  at  Radburn.  The  two  planners  of  Rad- 
burn, Clarence  Stein  and  Henry  Wright,  both  participated  in  the  Re- 

305 


306  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

settlement  Administration  program.  Tugwell,  although  acknowledging 
the  debt  to  Howard  and  the  English  garden  city  movement,  empha- 
sized the  fact  that  the  greenbelt  idea  also  came  from  a  study  of  con- 
temporary population  movements  which  showed  a  steady  growth  in 
the  periphery  of  cities.  He  believed  that  the  suburban  movement,  then 
a  new,  unexploited  frontier,  gave  the  best  chance  ever  offered  for  the 
governmental  planning  of  a  favorable  working  and  living  environ- 
ment. Past  opportunities  for  federal  planning  had  been  ignored,  with 
urban  slums  and  rural  poverty  the  results.  This  new  area  offered  a  last 
chance.  Tugwell  believed  that  there  should  be  3,000  greenbelt  cities 
instead  of  only  three.1 

Most  of  the  arguments  for  garden  cities  were  used  in  defending  the 
greenbelt  towns.  They  were  officially  described  as  "demonstrations  of 
the  combined  advantages  of  country  and  city  life  for  low-income  rural 
and  industrial  families/'2  They  were  to  be  the  means  for  escaping 
the  sprawling,  ugly  cities,  with  their  high  land  costs,  speculation  and 
antiquated  street  patterns.  For  the  farmers  in  the  greenbelt,  the  new 
towns  were  to  bring  markets,  an  end  to  the  economic  ills  of  bad  distri- 
bution, and  relief  from  social  and  cultural  starvation.  They  were  to 
demonstrate  a  new  type  of  community  planning  and  a  better  land  use 
in  suburban  areas.  They  were  to  demonstrate  in  practice  the  sound- 
ness of  the  garden  city  idea  and  were  to  provide  low-rent  housing  in 
healthful  surroundings  for  low-income  families.  Beyond  these  long- 
range  objectives,  they  were  to  provide  immediate  work  relief  for  the 
unemployed  in  the  area  of  three  large  cities  and  were,  through  the 
use  of  building  materials,  indirectly  to  stimulate  employment  through- 
out the  country.3 

The  greenbelt  city,  as  conceived  by  Tugwell,  was  to  be  a  complete 
community  of  a  limited  size,  encircled  by  a  greenbelt  of  farms,  owned 
collectively,  well  planned,  close  to  employment,  in  a  pleasant  setting, 

1  Rexford   G.   Tugwell,   "New  Frontier:    The  Story  of  Resettlement,"   Chicago 
Sunday  Times,  April  19,  1936,  and  "The  Meaning  of  the  Greenbelt  Towns,"  New 
Republic,  XC  (1937),  43. 

2  U.S.  Senate,  Resettlement  Administration  Program,  Document  no.  213,  74th 
Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  p.  7. 

3  Albert  Mayer,  "Greenbelt  Towns:  What  and  Why,"  American  City,  LI  (May, 
1936),  59;  U.S.  Department  of  Agriculture,  Farm  Security  Administration,  "Green- 
belt  Communities,"  a  pamphlet  (Washington,  1938),  p.  1;  Clarence  Stein,  Toward 
New  Towns  for  America   (Liverpool,   1951),  p.   101;   Data  compiled  by  W.   C. 
Moore,  Aug.  19,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


Greenbelt  Towns  307 

with  an  abundance  of  light,  air,  and  space,  with  safety  assured  for  the 
children,  with  common  utilities,  with  gardens,  and  with  schools  and 
playgrounds.  Since  the  subsistence  feature  of  the  other  suburban  com- 
munities was  not  emphasized  in  the  greenbelt  cities  and  since  they 
were  planned  as  full  cities,  with  eventual  populations  of  up  to  10,000, 
they  were  more  directly  related  to  the  urban  housing  programs  than 
any  other  communities.  Yet  they  represented  a  special  kind  of  housing. 
They  were  planned  as  the  type  of  community  housing  best  designed  to 
place  land,  houses,  and  people  together  in  a  way  to  strengthen  the 
foundations  of  the  whole  economic  and  social  structure  of  society.  The 
greenbelt  towns  differed  from  Public  Works  Administration  and  other 
public  housing  in  being  outside  cities;  in  occupying  extensive  sites;  in 
having  farms,  gardens,  forests,  and  wildlife;  in  their  distinctive  rural 
accent;  in  being  for  agricultural  workers  as  well  as  for  industrial  work- 
ers; and,  most  important,  in  being  complete  community  developments, 
with  streets,  public  utilities,  schools,  parks — in  fact,  completely  new 
towns.4 

A  provision  for  greenbelt  towns  was  included  in  the  executive  order 
creating  the  Resettlement  Administration.  They  had  long  been  a  topic 
of  interest  with  both  Tugwell  and  Roosevelt.  As  soon  as  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration  was  organized,  plans  for  the  greenbelt  cities  were 
pushed  more  assiduously  than  any  other  aspect  of  the  resettlement 
program.  The  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  studied  the  economic 
background  of  100  cities  in  the  United  States,  learning  the  rate  of 
population  growth,  the  numbers  employed  in  industry,  wages  paid, 
population  trends  after  1900,  volume  of  manufacturing,  and  the  diver- 
sity of  industries  and  occupations.  From  these  100  cities,  twenty-five 
were  picked  for  further  study.  In  July,  1935,  an  ambitious  and  enthusi- 
astic Tugwell  envisioned  greenbelt  towns  for  all  twenty-five  of  these 
cities,  but  he  never  received  nearly  the  appropriation  desired.  As  a 
result  these  twenty-five  cities  were  visited  by  industrial  engineers,  who 
studied  the  outskirts  for  greenbelt  sites  and  tested  the  attitudes  of  the 
local  citizens.  In  September,  Roosevelt  approved  eight  greenbelt  proj- 
ects involving  a  cost  of  $68,000,000,  but  the  Resettlement  Administra- 

4  Tugwell,  "Meaning  of  the  Greenbelt  Towns,"  p.  42;  Mayer,  "Greenbelt 
Towns:  What  and  Why,"  p.  59;  Will  W.  Alexander,  "Housing  Activities  of  the 
Resettlement  Administration,"  Housing  Officials'  Yearbook,  1937  (Chicago,  1937), 
p.  20;  Memorandum  initialed  by  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt,  n.d.,  R.G.  96,  National 

Archives. 


308  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

tion  received  only  $31,000,000  for  greenbelt  cities,  necessitating  a  re- 
duction in  plans  to  five  cities.  After  plans  for  a  proposed  greenbelt  city 
near  St.  Louis  were  dropped  because  of  disagreement  with  the  St. 
Louis  Plans  Commission,  the  program  was  reduced  to  four  communi- 
ties— on  the  outskirts  of  Washington,  D.C.,  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  Milwau- 
kee, Wisconsin,  and  New  York  City.  Before  construction  began,  the 
last  was  blocked  by  a  court  injunction.5 

After  the  selection  of  four  urban  areas  as  suitable  for  greenbelt 
cities,  the  actual  suburban  sites  were  selected  on  the  basis  of  a  careful 
study  of  population  trends,  topography,  land  prices,  and  availability 
to  employment.  On  this  basis  the  sites  were  selected  for  the  future 
Greenbelt  at  Berwyn,  Maryland,  about  seven  miles  from  Washington, 
for  Greenhills,  a  site  about  five  miles  north  of  Cincinnati,  and  for 
Greendale,  a  valley  three  miles  southwest  of  Milwaukee.  The  ill-fated 
Greenbrook  was  to  have  been  near  Bound  Brook,  New  Jersey,  in  the 
New  York  metropolitan  area.  Meanwhile  a  staff  of  town  planners, 
architects,  and  engineering  designers  had  been  assembled.  Land  was 
quickly  optioned  at  the  selected  sites  and,  even  as  plans  were  hurriedly 
made  ready,  the  Construction  Division  moved  into  the  forests  north 
of  Washington  and  began  work  on  Greenbelt  in  October,  1935,  less 
than  a  month  after  the  approval  of  the  greenbelt  program  by  Presi- 
dent Roosevelt.  "A  new  chapter  in  American  town  planning  and 
community  architecture"  was  under  way.6 

The  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  was  completely  responsible 
for  the  planning  of  the  greenbelt  cities.  Under  its  head,  John  S.  Lansill, 
were  four  relatively  autonomous  planning  teams,  one  for  each  city. 
Since  the  greenbelt  cities  were  experimental  and  demonstrational,  the 
vertical  form  of  organization,  which,  except  for  a  few  over-all  policies, 
permitted  complete  freedom  to  each  team  of  planners,  was  adopted 
in  order  to  allow  the  maximum  possibility  for  new  ideas  and  new  ap- 
proaches. Each  greenbelt  city  became  a  distinct  experiment  in  itself. 
Each  planning  team  was  headed  by  a  group  of  planning  principals, 
each  of  equal  rank.  These  included  one  or  more  town  planners,  one 
or  more  engineers,  one  or  more  architects,  and  a  regional  co-ordinator, 

5  "Greenbelt   Towns,"   Architectural  Record,   LXXX    (1936),   216;    Rexford   G. 
Tugwell  to  Harry  Hopkins,  July  18,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

6  "Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXX,  215-217;  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, Interim  Report,  p.  17. 


Greenbelt  Towns  309 

who  maintained  liaison  with  local  agencies  in  the  project  area  and 
between  the  planners  and  Lansill.  On  a  large  tract  of  land,  which 
would  permit  unified  ownership,  the  planners  and  architects  were 
directed  to  create  a  community  for  low-income  families,  designed  to 
encourage  the  kind  of  family  and  community  life  not  previously  en- 
joyed by  these  families.  They  were  not  to  plan  for  a  coercive,  theoreti- 
cal, or  untested  type  of  discipline.  They  were  to  plan  for  corporate 
ownership,  for  perpetual  leasing,  and  for  a  municipal  government 
suited  to  the  local  area.  They  were  to  develop  a  land-use  plan  for  the 
whole  tract,  were  to  devise  a  system  of  rural  economy  co-ordinated 
with  the  land-use  plan  for  the  rural  belt,  and  were  to  integrate  the 
plans  of  the  rural  and  urban  areas.  Beyond  this  they  were  on  their 
own.7 

The  Suburban  Resettlement  Division  was  finally  lodged  in  the  ex- 
travagant old  Walsh  mansion  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  a  multi- 
millionaire, the  late  Senator  Edward  B.  McLean.  The  drafting  rooms, 
in  which  the  homes  of  the  poor  were  to  be  designed,  surrounded  a 
monumental  marble  staircase  said  to  simulate  the  rococo  central  hall 
of  the  Atlantic  liner  on  which  the  Senator  had  made  his  first  trip 
abroad.  Halfway  up  the  stairs  the  planners  collided  with  a  "monstrous 
sculptural  group  of  naked  figures,  so  bulky  and  heavy  that  the  govern- 
ment could  not  afford  to  resettle  it."  Here  the  young  architects  and 
planners  at  first  produced  designs  that  seemed  destined  for  West- 
chester  villas,  but,  ultimately,  created  "a  great  and  unified  beauty  out 
of  essential  requirements  and  simple  designs."  8  Critics  pointed  to  the 
early  confusion  in  the  Walsh  mansion,  the  constant  shifting  of  furni- 
ture, the  scarcity  of  drawing  paper,  the  expensive  equipment,  and  the 
lack  of  clear  plans  and  of  co-ordination  between  planning  teams.9 

Although  construction  began  on  the  greenbelt  cities  in  October, 
1935,  it  was  not  until  the  spring  of  1936  that  extensive  progress  was 
made.  The  early  construction,  especially  at  Greenbelt,  was  delayed 
because  of  a  lack  of  co-ordination  between  the  planning  staff  and  the 
construction  crews.  As  the  first  work  began  at  Greenbelt,  the  Construc- 
tion Division  did  not  know  exactly  what  type  of  project  was  planned. 
Final  plans  were  also  delayed  by  the  failure  of  the  concrete-slab  con- 
struction attempted  at  Hightstown  and  originally  considered  for  Green- 


Stein,  Toward  New  Towns,  pp.  102-103.  *  Ibid.,  p.  102. 

New  York  Sun,  July  11,  1936. 


310  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

belt.  But  in  1936  and  1937  the  progress  was  rapid,  with  an  average 
monthly  employment  of  over  7,000  on  the  three  projects.  At  Greenbelt 
the  construction  program  absorbed  all  the  unemployed  relief  labor 
in  Washington  and  in  the  adjacent  Maryland  counties.  The  first  units 
were  occupied  at  Greenbelt  in  September,  1937,  at  Greenhills  in  May, 
1938,  and  at  Greendale  in  June,  1938.  When  completed  the  three  proj- 
ects contained  2,267  family  units  and  complete  community  facilities, 
all  costing  over  $36,000,000.10 

One  project,  Greenbrook,  never  proceeded  beyond  the  planning  and 
land-option  stage  because  of  the  successful  opposition  of  local  citizens, 
which  culminated  in  the  court  injunction  that  was  sustained  by  the 
District  of  Columbia  Court  of  Appeals  in  May,  1936.  Greenbrook  had 
been  planned  by  Henry  Wright,  coplanner  of  Radburn,  and  was  the 
only  one  of  the  four  greenbelt  cities  that  would  probably  have  had 
local  industries,  making  it  a  complete  garden  city  such  as  Letchworth 
rather  than  an  economically  dependent  satellite.  The  Greenbrook  de- 
cision practically  assured  that  the  greenbelt  program  would  not  be 
expanded  beyond  the  three  cities  already  under  construction  and,  at 
the  same  time,  placed  each  of  them  in  danger  of  similar  local  injunc- 
tions. 

Greenbelt,  Maryland,  was  the  first  of  the  greenbelt  cities  to  be 
completed,  was  slightly  the  largest  of  the  cities,  and,  perhaps  because 
of  its  proximity  to  Washington,  received  much  the  larger  share  of 
publicity.  For  $1,124,480  the  Resettlement  Administration  purchased 
12,259  acres  of  submarginal  land  located  next  to  the  Department  of 
Agriculture's  National  Research  Center  near  College  Park,  Maryland. 
Of  this  large  acreage,  8,659  acres  were  placed  under  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  Research  Center,  which  formed  part  of  the  greenbelt,  and 
3,600  acres  were  retained  for  Greenbelt  proper.  Of  this,  217  acres  were 
used  for  the  town,  500  acres  were  reserved  for  future  expansion,  250 
acres  were  used  for  parks,  107  acres  were  reserved  for  allotment  gar- 
dens, 20  acres  were  used  for  a  county  high  school,  and  the  rest  re- 
mained in  waste  and  woodland,  both  available  for  recreation.  Green- 
belt  was  planned  as  a  dormitory  town  for  Washington,  which  was 

10  Department  of  Agriculture,  Resettlement  Administration,  Report  of  the  Ad- 
ministrator of  the  Resettlement  Administration,  1937  (The  second  annual  report 
of  the  Resettlement  Administration;  Washington,  1937),  p.  17.  Joseph  L.  Dailey 
to  John  Sansill,  Oct.  19,  1935,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Farm  Security  Ad- 
ministration, Report  on  the  Greenbelt  Cities,  n.d.,  ibid. 


Greenbelt  Towns  311 

experiencing  a  rapid  growth  and  a  severe  housing  shortage.  Unlike 
the  English  garden  cities,  Greenbelt  was  not  planned  for  any  industry 
of  its  own,  although  it  was  hoped  that  several  employees  of  the  Re- 
search Center  could  live  at  Greenbelt.  Finally,  unlike  the  other  green- 
belt  cities  and  again  contrary  to  garden  city  principles,  Greenbelt  did 
not  contain  any  farms  in  its  greenbelt,  primarily  because  the  land  was 
not  suitable  for  farming.  However,  the  Research  Center  was  a  con- 
tiguous farming  area.11 

The  physical  design  of  Greenbelt  became  famous.  The  completed 
plan  envisioned  a  future  expansion  to  approximately  3,000  family 
units,  although  the  Resettlement  Administration  planned  to  construct 
only  1,000  units.  The  design  combined  the  ideas  of  the  garden  city 
exponents  with  the  Radburn  plan.  As  a  garden  city  it  was  to  be  limited 
in  size  by  the  greenbelt,  and  was  to  be  under  public  ownership.  As 
its  older  sister,  Radburn,  it  was  to  have  extra-large  blocks,  internal 
parks,  the  rigid  separation  of  pedestrians  and  automobiles,  and  pedes- 
trian underpasses.  The  town  of  Greenbelt  was  constructed  on  a 
crescent-shaped  plateau  which  formed  a  half -moon  around  the  central 
community  shopping  center  and  recreational  area.  The  dwelling  units 
were  largely  located  in  five  superblocks  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
acres  each.  As  at  Radburn  the  houses  or  apartments  faced  two  ways, 
toward  a  central  park  and  pedestrian  walkways  on  one  side  and  to- 
ward the  service  entrances  or  cul-de-sacs  on  the  other.  Skirting  the 
large  blocks  were  the  streets,  which,  because  of  the  design,  amounted 
to  only  six  miles.  The  parks  in  the  center  of  each  block  were  connected 
to  each  other  by  pedestrian  underpasses  costing  about  $5,000  each. 
An  underpass  also  connected  the  housing  areas  with  the  community 
center.  A  man-made  lake  of  twenty-five  acres  near  the  community 
center  enhanced  the  beauty  of  the  site.12  (See  Figure  2.) 

Because  of  limited  funds,  the  Resettlement  Administration  com- 
pleted only  885  dwelling  units  at  Greenbelt.  Of  these,  only  five  were 
detached,  single-family  homes,  whereas  574  were  in  multiple-dwelling 

11  Cedric  Larson,  "Greenbelt,  Maryland:  A  Federally  Planned  Community," 
reprinted  from  the  National  Municipal  Review,  XXVII  (1938),  by  the  Farm 
Security  Administration,  pp.  2—3. 

™  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns,  p.  113;  Larson,  "Greenbelt,  Maryland,"  p.  4; 
"Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXX,  220-221;  M.  E.  Gilford,  "In- 
troducing: 'Greenbelt,  Maryland,'  "  Christian  Science  Monitor  Magazine,  Aug.  11, 
1937,  p.  5. 


312  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

row  houses  and  306  in  larger  apartment  buildings.  Despite  the  multi- 
ple dwellings  the  housing  density  was  only  seven  families  per  acre. 
The  dwellings  were  partly  of  brick  veneer  with  pitched  roofs  and 
partly  of  cinder  blocks  with  flat  roofs.  The  city  contained  its  own 
sewage  system  and  disposal  plant,  a  water  storage  tank  and  mains, 
and  a  central  electrical  distribution  system.  Water  and  electricity  were 
purchased  in  bulk  from  Washington  and  a  private  company,  respec- 
tively. The  housing  units  varied  in  size  from  tiny  one-bedroom  apart- 
ments to  seven-room  dwellings.  They  were  unfurnished,  except  for 
the  range  and  refrigerator,  but,  as  in  each  of  the  three  cities,  the  Re- 
settlement Administration  had  given  simplified  furniture  designs  to 
private  manufacturers  and  would,  if  the  tenant  desired,  furnish  his 
unit  at  a  very  low  price.  The  units  were  heated  by  centrally  located 
hot- water  furnaces.  All  utilities  were  planned  for  a  city  of  3,000 
families.13 

The  community  center  was  planned  as  the  heart  of  Greenbelt.  It 
contained  the  community  building,  which  was  leased  during  the  day 
to  the  county  for  an  elementary  school,  the  fire  engine,  the  gas  station, 
an  inn  and  restaurant,  the  movie  theater,  and  a  mercantile  center, 
which  included  a  food  and  general  merchandise  store,  a  drugstore,  a 
barbershop,  a  beauty  shop,  and  a  dry-cleaning  and  valet  shop.  The 
community  center  also  had  a  playground,  an  outdoor  swimming  pool, 
and  an  athletic  field.  Other  playgrounds,  play  boxes,  and  open  areas 
were  interspersed  throughout  the  town,  and  the  lake  and  greenbelt 
formed  perfect  natural  playgrounds.  The  shopping  center  followed 
Ebenezer  Howard's  idea  of  a  restricted  market.  Only  one  shop  was 
allowed  for  each  business  or  service,  and  all  were  under  community 
control.  A  consolidated  county  high  school  was  constructed  by  Prince 
George  County  near  the  town  and  on  the  very  edge  of  the  greenbelt. 
The  University  of  Maryland  was  only  four  miles  from  the  commu- 
nity.14 

In  September,  1935,  the  Resettlement  Administration  optioned  5,930 
acres  of  farm  land  about  eleven  miles  north  of  downtown  Cincinnati. 

13  Larson,   "Greenbelt,   Maryland,"  pp.   4-5;   "Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural 
Record,  LXXX,  220-222;  "Farm  Security  Administration  Housing  Projects,"  Archi- 
tectural Forum,  LXVIII  (1938),  416-417. 

14  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns,  pp.  132,  137;  "Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural 
Record,  LXXX,  220-222;  "Greenbelt  Takes  Over:   Consumers  Now  Own  Co-op 
Stores  Launched  with  Filene  Money,"  Business  Week,  Feb.  3,  1940,  p.  35. 


Qreenbelt  Towns  313 

This  was  the  site  for  Greenhills,  which  was,  according  to  original 
plans,  to  be  as  large  as  Greenbelt.  The  Cincinnati  area  was  picked  for 
a  greenbelt  city  because  of  the  density  of  industry,  the  proportionately 
large  number  of  people  engaged  in  industry,  and  the  local  housing 
shortage.  The  particular  site  was  selected  because  it  was  only  thirty 
minutes  from  53,800  jobs  and  because  of  its  beauty,  its  distance  from 
existing  subdivisions,  its  transportation  facilities,  and  its  excellent 
farm  land.  Only  about  1,300  acres  of  the  roughest  terrain  were  utilized 
in  the  central  town,  leaving  over  4,000  acres  in  farm  or  woodland.  Un- 
like Greenbelt,  the  site  for  Greenhills  contained  about  thirty  large 
farms  and  an  equal  number  of  subsistence  farms.  These  farms  already 
had  homes  and  outbuildings  and  were  only  repaired  by  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration.  The  farms  were  leased  tq  tenants  under  five-year 
leases,  with  the  rent  determined  by  production.  Some  eroded  areas 
were  reforested.  Soil  analyses  were  made  by  the  Ohio  State  University, 
and  the  Resettlement  Administration  helped  the  farmers  work  out 
crop  plans.  It  was  hoped  that  the  farms  could  supply  Greenhills  with 
farm  products,  which  were  to  be  marketed  through  a  farmers'  market 
in  the  town.  In  actuality  the  farmers  sold  most  of  their  products  in 
Cincinnati.15 

The  plot  design  at  Greenhills  varied  considerably  from  that  at 
Greenbelt,  although  many  of  the  Radburn  features  remained.  Green- 
hills  was  scenically  placed  in  a  wild  area  sharply  cut  by  ravines.  Un- 
like Greenbelt,  the  site  was  crossed  by  a  main  highway.  The  roads  and 
topography  led  to  several  narrow  curving  building  areas  separated 
from  each  other  by  the  ravines  or  the  roads.  Thus,  although  there  were 
several  superblocks  with  cul-de-sacs  and  central  park  areas,  much  of 
the  town  consisted  of  single,  fingerlike  cul-de-sacs  or  small  circular 
drives,  both  surrounded  by  the  natural  scenery.  The  community  cen- 
ter, roughly  in  the  center  of  the  town  and  on  the  main  highway,  was 
not  as  easily  accessible  by  foot  to  all  the  homes  as  was  the  one  at 
Greenbelt,  but,  unlike  that  at  Greenbelt,  was  designed  for  automobile 
travel.  Thus,  Greenhills,  adapted  to  different  terrain,  was  not  planned 
with  all  the  unique  pedestrian  facilities  of  Greenbelt,  such  as  a  com- 
plete underpass  system.  On  the  other  hand,  Greenhills  was  situated  in 
a  much  more  beautiful  natural  setting,  with  the  homes  always  fronting 

15  Cincinnati  Enquirer,  Oct.  13,  1936;  Washington  Star,  Nov.  20,  1938;  "Green- 
belt  Towns,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXX,  224-226. 


314  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

both  on  streets  and  on  central  parks  or  on  a  back-yard  wilderness.16 
(See  Figure  3.) 

As  completed,  the  town  of  Greenhills  contained  only  676  of  a  con- 
templated 1,000  family  units.  These  were  divided  into  24  detached, 
three-  or  four-bedroom,  single-family  dwellings,  152  one-  and  two- 
bedroom  apartments,  and  500  two-,  three-,  or  four-bedroom  units  in 
row  or  group  houses.  The  housing  units  were  of  stucco  over  terra-cotta 
blocks,  with  slate  roofs  and  insulation.  They  were  heated  by  hot-water 
radiators  connected  with  boiler-type  oil  furnaces.  Many  of  the  homes 
had  attics,  basements,  and  attached  garages.  Water  was  secured  from 
Cincinnati,  and  sewage  was  disposed  of  in  a  regional  trunk  line.  The 
Greenhills  community  center  included  the  administration  building, 
the  combined  community  center,  high  school,  and  elementary  school 
building,  a  restricted  retail  center  as  at  Greenbelt,  an  arcade  planned 
as  a  farmers'  market,  and  a  swimming  pool.  Connected  with  it  was  a 
park  and,  at  a  short  distance,  athletic  fields.  An  area  near  the  town 
was  reserved  for  allotment  gardens,  and  the  wooded  banks  of  a  creek 
which  bisected  the  town  provided  a  perfect  area  for  hiking.17 

The  third  greenbelt  city,  which  contained  3,510  acres  just  to  the 
west  of  Milwaukee,  was  radically  different  in  design  from  the  other 
two  greenbelt  towns.  It  was  placed  near  Milwaukee  because  of  the 
housing  shortage  and  the  large  percentage  of  people  employed  in  in- 
dustry. Planned  for  only  750  family  units,  Greendale  was  less  like 
Radburn  than  its  two  sisters.  Alone  among  the  three  cities,  it  had  a 
small,  ten-acre  area  reserved  for  light  industry,  although  none  was 
established  by  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Approximately  1,830 
acres  were  in  farm  land,  with  13  full-time  dairy  farms  of  from  75  to 
240  acres  and  53  small  farms  or  subsistence  units.  A  farm  adviser  was 
provided  by  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  which  remodeled  or 
repaired  many  of  the  farm  buildings.18 

Greendale  was  planned  as  a  conventional  country  village,  with  a 

19  "Site  Plans  of  'Greenbelt'  Towns,"  American  City,  LI  (Aug.,  1936),  58-59; 
"Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXX,  224-226. 

17  "Farm    Security    Administration    Housing    Projects,"    Architectural    Forum, 
LXVIII,  418-419,  424;  "Greenbelt  Towns,"  Architectural  Record,  LXXX,  224- 
226. 

18  Farm  Security  Administration,  "Greendale:  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs  to 
June  30,  1938,"  in  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  Sherwood  L.  Reeder,  "A  Report 
on  the  First  Two  Years  of  the  Greendale  Community,"  A  Project  Report  of  the 
Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics,  April  30,  1940,  R.G.  83,  National  Archives. 


Greenbelt  Towns  315 

few  cul-de-sacs  and  several  normal  city  blocks.  It  contained  only  indi- 
vidual or  small-group  housing,  being  the  largest  housing  project  of 
this  nature  in  the  northern  United  States.  The  community  and  business 
section  resembled  the  business  area  of  an  average  village.  Each  home 
faced  either  a  main  street  or  a  service  entrance;  each  contained  a  back 
yard  and  a  garden  area.  The  large  village  park  was  separated  from 
the  homes,  and  the  nearby  farms  contributed  to  the  rural  atmosphere. 
Although  in  every  way  more  conventional  than  its  sister  cities,  Green- 
dale  was  usually  adjudged  more  desirable  by  most  tenants  because 
of  the  predominance  of  individual  houses.  Located  in  a  green  valley, 
protected  from  winter  storms  by  wooded  hillsides,  and  close  to  the 
Milwaukee  park  system,  Greendale  was  also  a  very  pretty  town.19 
(See  Figure  4.) 

Greendale,  when  completed,  contained  only  572  dwelling  units  in 
the  city  proper.  Of  these,  274  were  two-  and  three-bedroom,  detached, 
family  dwellings,  90  were  one-,  two,  and  four-bedroom  duplexes, 
whereas  only  208  were  in  multiple-family  units.  All  houses  were  of 
cinder  blocks,  with  clay  tile  roofs,  insulation,  maple  floors,  and  indi- 
vidual hot-air  furnaces.  Unlike  those  in  the  other  two  cities,  the  tenants 
at  Greendale  were  individually  responsible  for  their  utilities.  Most  of 
the  homes  had  garages  and  screened  porches.  The  electric  and  tele- 
phone wires  were  underground,  with  enough  utilities  laid  for  5,000 
people.  Each  family  that  desired  more  garden  space  than  was  pro- 
vided in  the  back  yards  could  have  an  extra  allotment  near  the  vil- 
lage.20 

Greendale's  community  center  included  an  administration  building, 
a  combination  community  and  elementary  school  building,  a  fire  and 
police  station,  a  store,  a  movie  theater,  a  tavern,  a  post  office,  and  a 
service  station.  Its  streets  were  bordered  by  sidewalks,  again  in  the 
conventional  manner,  and  the  community  area  was  fully  landscaped. 
Alone  among  greenbelt  cities,  Greendale's  community  center  was  con- 
structed by  contract  rather  than  by  relief  labor.21 

19  Clarence  S.  Stein,  "Greendale  and  the  Future,"  American  City,  LXIII  ( June, 
1948),  106-107;  "Site  Plans,"  American  City,  LI,  56;  "Greenbelt  Towns,"  Archi- 
tectural Record,  LXXX,  227-230. 

20  Milwaukee  Journal,  Sept.  17,  1936;  "Farm  Security  Administration  Housing," 
Architectural   Forum,    LXVIII,   420-421;    "Greendale:    Final    Report   of   Project 
Costs,"  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

31  "Greendale,  Final  Report  of  Project  Costs,"  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 


316  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

The  first  tenant  moved  into  Greenbelt  on  September  30,  1937.  By 
December,  1938,  approximately  2,000  of  the  more  than  2,200  units  in 
all  three  cities  were  occupied.  By  the  time  of  the  first  occupancy,  the 
Resettlement  Administration  had  been  besieged  with  over  12,000  ap- 
plications for  Greenbelt  alone,  necessitating  a  careful  process  of  selec- 
tion. The  express  purpose  of  the  greenbelt  towns,  to  serve  low-income 
workers,  led  to  a  wage  ceiling  of  $2,200  for  each  family,  and  the  rent 
scales  necessitated  a  minimum  income  of  about  $1,200.  Preference 
was  given  to  young  married  families  with  children,  who  were  living 
in  poor  housing  but  who  could,  nevertheless,  afford  the  rent  to  be 
charged  at  the  greenbelt  cities.  The  rent  scale  at  Greenbelt  and  Green- 
hills,  where  utilities  were  included,  ranged  from  about  $18.00  to  $42.00, 
depending  on  the  size  of  the  unit.  At  Greendale,  where  the  individual 
was  responsible  for  utilities,  the  rent  varied  from  $19.00  to  $32.50.  The 
first  885  families  at  Greenbelt  were  composed  primarily  of  wage  earn- 
ers and  government  workers.  Most  had  high  school  educations;  the 
religious  composition  followed  the  national  average.  At  Milwaukee 
and  Cincinnati  the  tenants  were  usually  industrial  workers.  In  all  cases 
they  were  predominantly  young  people,  with  the  adults  at  Greenbelt 
averaging  only  thirty-one  years  of  age.  In  order  to  maintain  high 
standards,  the  Resettlement  Administration  enforced  strict  rules  in 
the  greenbelt  cities.  At  Greenbelt  no  dogs  were  permitted,  and  no 
clothes  were  allowed  to  remain  on  the  lines  after  four  in  the  afternoon. 
Contrary  to  many  of  the  rural  communities,  a  strict  rent  discipline  was 
maintained,  with  payments  due  in  advance  and  eviction  an  ever- 
present  reality.  For  the  first  four  years  the  amount  of  accumulated 
delinquency  totaled  only  0.3  per  cent.22 

The  original  occupants  at  the  three  greenbelt  cities  were  an  enthusi- 
astic group,  with  the  highest  of  morale.  This  fact  was  reflected  in  the 
amazing  number  of  community  activities.  One  visitor  to  Greenbelt 
concluded  that  the  citizens  were  "overstimulated"  socially.  There  were 
so  many  activities,  so  many  things  planned,  that  the  citizens'  associa- 
tion provided  for  a  "stay-at-home  week"  for  the  last  week  of  the  year. 

22  Will  W.  Alexander,  "A  Review  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration's  Housing 
Activities,"  Housing  Yearbook,  1939  (Chicago:  National  Association  of  Housing 
Officials,  1939),  p.  139;  Larson,  "Greenbelt,  Maryland,"  p.  6;  Stein,  Toward 
New  Towns,  p.  110;  Philip  S.  Brown,  "What  Has  Happened  at  Greenbelt?"  New 
Republic,  CV  (1941),  184;  a  report  on  the  greenbelt  communities,  n.d.,  R.G.  96, 
National  Archives. 


Greenbelt  Towns  317 

During  this  week  there  was  to  be  a  moratorium  on  all  club  and  civic 
activities.  At  Greenbelt  there  was  the  Greenbelt  Citizens'  Association 
(the  most  important  civic  organization),  a  Junior  Citizens'  Associa- 
tion, a  hobby  club,  boy  scouts,  girl  scouts,  cub  scouts,  a  garden  club, 
a  bridge  club,  an  American  Legion  chapter,  a  dance  band,  an  athletic 
organization,  a  preschool  mothers'  club,  a  school-age  mothers'  club,  a 
radio  club,  a  glider  club,  a  widows'  club,  a  swimming  club,  a  camera 
club,  a  better  buyer's  club,  the  Greenbelt  Players,  a  choral  group,  and 
a  journalistic  club.23  Greendale  had  its  citizens'  group,  a  marionette 
class,  a  drama  club,  a  tap-dancing  class,  an  organized  sports  league, 
scout  activities,  and  a  newspaper.  Perhaps  fortunately  for  the  over- 
worked citizens,  this  social  activity  soon  lessened,  and  the  greenbelt 
cities  settled  down  to  a  very  normal  small-town  existence,  with  much 
apathy,  many  cliques,  and  a  continually  large  turnover  in  tenants.24 
Although  the  greenbelt  cities  were  satellites,  economically  depend- 
ent upon  their  parent  cities,  they  did  contain  their  own  retail  shopping 
centers.  These  permitted  the  usual  stress  upon  co-operation.  Edward 
Filene,  a  merchant  of  Boston,  gave  $1,000,000  to  further  the  co- 
operative movement  as  the  greenbelt  cities  were  being  constructed. 
The  Consumer  Distribution  Corporation,  founded  with  this  Filene 
grant,  leased  the  commercial  centers  in  the  three  greenbelt  cities  and 
had  the  stores  ready  for  operation  when  the  residents  arrived.  The 
externally  financed  co-operative  service  was  to  operate  the  stores  only 
until  the  citizens  could  establish  their  own  consumers'  co-operative. 
Co-operation  became  a  rage  at  Greenbelt,  with  the  children  operating 
a  co-operative  commissary  in  the  school.  But  not  until  1940  was  a 
local  co-operative  organized  and  ready  to  take  over  the  retail  services, 
which  were  returning  a  regular  profit.  The  consumers'  co-operative, 
as  organized,  included  456  of  the  885  families.  At  Greenhills  and 
Greendale  similar  consumer  groups  took  over  the  retail  stores  at  an 
even  earlier  date.  The  co-operatives  paid  limited  dividends  to  each 
stockholder,  with  one  share  of  stock  costing  $10.00  at  Greenhills  and 
$15.00  at  Greendale.  Other  savings,  if  any,  were  passed  on  to  the  con- 
sumers. Also  organized  co-operatively  were  the  credit  unions  and  the 

23  Hugh  A.  Bone,  "Greenbelt  Faces  1939,"  American  City,  LIV   (Feb.,  1939), 
59-61;  Larson,  "Greenbelt,  Maryland,"  p.  7;  O.  Kline  Fulmer,  Greenbelt  (Wash- 
ington: American  Council  on  Public  Affairs,  n.d.),  pp.  26-36;  George  A.  Warner, 
Greenbelt:  The  Cooperative  Community  (New  York,  1954),  pp.  84-85. 

24  Brown,  "What  Has  Happened  at  Greenbelt?"  p.  184. 


318  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

group  medical  services.  A  typical  medical  plan,  the  one  at  Greendale, 
cost  one  dollar  a  month  per  person,  or  three  dollars  for  a  family.25 

The  educational  program  in  the  greenbelt  cities  was  for  adults  as 
well  as  for  children.  The  early  enthusiasm  resulted  in  a  flurry  of  adult 
classes.  Under  the  direction  of  an  educational  committee  of  the  Green- 
belt  Citizens'  Association,  adults  took  courses  in  art,  home  economics, 
political  science,  and  accounting,  many  under  instructors  from  the 
nearby  University  of  Maryland.  In  all  three  cities  the  elementary 
schools  were  held  in  the  community  buildings.  At  Greenbelt  the  school 
was  used  as  an  experiment  in  progressive  education,  with  the  unit 
plan  being  used.  This  did  not  receive  support  from  all  the  parents, 
since  some  of  them  desired  a  more  traditional  system  for  their  chil- 
dren. For  many  years  the  religious  services  were  also  held  in  the 
community  buildings.26 

According  to  the  earliest  plans,  the  greenbelt  cities  were  to  be  com- 
plete, incorporated  towns  with  their  own  municipal  governments.  In 
April,  1937,  months  before  completion,  Greenbelt  received  a  charter 
from  the  Maryland  legislature,  which  officially  established  it  as  the 
first  Maryland  town  with  a  city-manager  type  of  government.  Green- 
hills  and  Greendale  were  similarly  incorporated  in  1938,  each  with 
the  city-manager  system.  In  each  town  the  city  manager  was  ap- 
pointed by  a  democratically  elected  city  council.  Since  the  Farm 
Security  Administration  had  its  own  community  manager  in  each 
town,  the  town  councils,  for  many  years,  also  appointed  him  town 
manager.  The  existence  of  three  or  four  governmental  units  (state, 
county,  city,  and  federal)  inevitably  led  to  problems.  The  Farm  Se- 
curity Administration  made  payments  in  lieu  of  taxes  not  only  to  the 
county  and  state,  but  also  to  the  city  government  for  specific  services. 
Since  the  city  government  could  not  tax  the  landowner — the  federal 
government — most  of  the  money  for  public  utilities,  street  repairs, 
maintenance,  and  police  and  fire  protection  had  to  be  provided  by  the 

25  Warner,  Greenbelt:  The  Cooperative  Community,  pp.  72-74,  133-141;  Ralph 
Adams  Cram,  "What  Is  a  Free  Man?"  Catholic  Rural  Life  Objectives,  III  (1937), 
38;  Memorandum  for  Mordecai  Ezekiel,  Sept.  9,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National  Archives; 
"Greenbelt  Goes  Completely  Cooperative,"  Readers  Digest,  XXX  (Oct.,  1938), 
36;  "Greenbelt  Takes  Over,"  p.  35;  Fulmer,  Greenbelt,  pp.  27-31;  Washington 
Star,  Nov.  20,  1938;  Reeder,  "A  Report  on  ...  Greendale,"  R.G.  83,  National 
Archives. 

26  Bone,  "Greenbelt  Faces  1939,"  pp.  60-61;  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns,  p.  135. 


Greenbelt  Towns  319 

federal  government.  Thus  the  city  council  and  town  manager  could 
only  make  suggestions  as  to  needed  expenditures,  receiving  the  needed 
funds  at  the  discretion  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  This  led 
to  some  indications  of  irresponsibility  on  the  part  of  the  local  govern- 
ments.27 Fortunately,  many  of  the  problems  in  local  administration 
and  government  had  been  anticipated  by  John  O.  Walker,  long-time 
mayor  of  Radburn,  who  had  been  brought  to  the  Management  Divi- 
sion of  the  Resettlement  Administration  on  the  suggestion  of  M.  L. 
Wilson,  and  by  Clarence  Stein,  who  made  a  study  of  anticipated  oper- 
ation and  maintenance  costs  in  the  three  greenbelt  cities. 

The  greenbelt  communities  were  constantly  in  the  public  eye  from 
the  beginning  of  construction  until  long  after  full  occupancy.  Since 
they  were  close  to  large  urban  areas,  over  1,200,000  people  visited 
them  between  July  1,  1936,  and  June  30,  1937.  Every  innovation,  every 
petty  detail  was  scrutinized.  One  critic  stated  that,  whether  or  not  a 
person  felt  the  government  had  any  business  building  greenbelt  cities, 
"you  can't  help  admit  they're  interesting."28  But,  interesting  or  no, 
local  opinion  prevented  Greenbrook's  completion,  and  a  suit  against 
Greendale  was  attempted  unsuccessfully  by  the  Milwaukee  building 
and  loan  associations.  In  Cincinnati  the  Real  Estate  Board,  the  build- 
ing and  loan  associations,  and  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  all  opposed 
Greenhills.  Real  estate  owners  often  feared  lowered  land  values,  and 
local  governments,  such  as  Bound  Brook,  New  Jersey,  feared  a  loss  in 
tax  revenue.  The  greenbelt  cities — like  all  of  Tugwell's  ventures — were 
treated  unfairly  in  a  majority  of  newspapers,  with  the  New  York 
American  describing  Greendale  as  "the  first  Communist  town  in 
America."  29 

As  in  many  of  the  subsistence  homesteads,  much  of  the  greenbelt 
criticism  was  directed  at  minor  details.  Many  of  the  new  concepts  in 
planning,  partly  because  of  their  newness,  were  unappreciated  or  dis- 
liked. The  row  houses  and  flat  roofs  at  Greenbelt  were  described  as 
ugly.  The  community  ownership  was  described  as  either  socialism  or 
communism.  Tenants  often  disliked  the  stiff  discipline  and  desired  to 

27  Stein,  Toward  New  Towns,  pp.  148,  155. 

28  Resettlement  Administration,  Report  of  the  Administrator  of  the  Resettlement 
Administration,  1937,  p.  17;  New  Brunswick  Daily  Home  News,  May  11,  1936. 

29  New  York  American,  Oct.  29,  1936;  Warren  Bishop,  "A  Yardstick  for  Hous- 
ing," Nations  Business,  XXIV  (April,  1936),  69;  Milwaukee  Journal,  Sept.  17, 
1936. 


320  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

own  their  own  homes  as  soon  as  possible.  Many  viewed  the  rigid  ceil- 
ing on  income  as  an  attempt  to  stifle  initiative  by  rewarding  poverty. 
The  relative  isolation  of  Greenbelt  led  to  constant  transportation  diffi- 
culties. For  one  year  the  Farm  Security  Administration  subsidized  the 
Washington  city  transportation  system  in  order  to  have  regular  buses. 
After  this  was  declared  illegal  by  the  Attorney  General,  the  people  at 
Greenbelt  had  to  form  car  pools  or  make  several  bus  changes.  Some 
citizens  disliked  the  monopoly  over  consumer  outlets  enjoyed  by  the 
local  co-operatives.  Yet  most  inhabitants  were  proud  of  their  homes 
and  would  suggest  no  basic  changes.  As  for  the  children,  they  were 
in  a  heaven  as  compared  with  most  low-cost  city  housing  areas. 

The  most  valid  criticism  of  the  greenbelt  cities  was  directed  at  their 
costs.  Tugwell,  when  first  beginning  the  greenbelt  towns,  had  thor- 
oughly condemned  private  enterprise  for  not  entering  the  field  of  low- 
cost,  prefabricated  housing.  Yet  the  average  unit  cost  at  Greenbelt 
was  $15,395,  at  Greenhills  $16,093,  and  at  Greendale  $16,623.  This  was 
not  low-cost  housing.  At  the  price  rented  it  was  highly  subsidized 
housing.  The  net  income  from  rent  at  Greenbelt  in  1941  was  only 
$30,744;  this  meant  that,  not  regarding  interest,  it  would  take  over 
300  years  for  Greenbelt  to  pay  for  itself.  In  defense  of  the  high  costs 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  had  some  very  logical  arguments. 
The  use  of  unskilled  relief  labor,  it  was  argued,  added  over  a  third 
of  the  cost.  Beyond  this,  the  unused  greenbelt  could  not  be  charged 
to  the  homes,  since  it  had  certainly  retained  its  original  value.  More- 
over, the  public  and  community  facilities,  usually  furnished  by  local 
governments,  had  been  added  to  the  costs.  Finally,  the  greenbelt  cities 
had  been  constructed  to  care  for  over  three  times  the  original  popula- 
tion, meaning  that  any  future  expansion  would  cost  only  a  fraction  as 
much  per  unit,  an  argument  proved  at  Greenbelt  by  the  addition  of 
wartime  housing.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  greenbelt  towns  indi- 
cated that  no  private  corporation  could  build  complete  towns,  with 
all  their  facilities  and  an  expensive  greenbelt,  and  then  be  able  to 
rent  them  to  low-income  families.30 

Nevertheless,  the  greenbelt  cities  had  many  enthusiastic  admirers. 
When  visiting  Greenbelt  in  December,  1936,  President  Roosevelt  pro- 

30  George  Morris,  "$16,000  Home  for  $2,000  Incomes:  Typical  Government  Ex- 
periments Is  Greenbelt,"  Nations  Business,  XXVI  (Jan.,  1938),  21-22;  Tugwell, 
"Meaning  of  the  Greenbelt  Towns,"  p.  42. 


Greenbelt  Towns  321 

claimed:  "This  is  a  real  achievement  and  I  wish  everyone  in  the  coun- 
try could  see  it."31  In  England,  Sir  Raymond  Unwin,  the  coplanner 
of  Letchworth,  enthusiastically  lectured  on  the  greenbelt  cities  to 
those  familiar  with  garden  cities.  The  greenbelt  towns  influenced 
housing  and  town  planning  around  the  world,  being  second  only  to 
the  Tennessee  Valley  Authority  in  interest  to  foreign  guests.  The  De- 
partment of  State  received  requests  for  information  on  the  towns  from 
several  foreign  governments.32  To  town  planners  the  towns  had  their 
greatest  significance.  Said  Henry  Churchill,  one  of  the  architects  at 
Greenbelt,  of  the  three  towns:  "The  prevailing  philosophy  of  self- 
liquidation,  of  constipated  conservatism,  must  not  be  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  what  is,  by  any  philosophy,  next  to  the  T.V.A.,  the  most  sig- 
nificant of  the  New  Deal's  attempt  to  be  a  New  Deal/'33  Another 
housing  and  planning  expert,  Walter  H.  Blucher,  though  critical  of 
some  aspects  of  greenbelt  planning,  conceded:  "Greenbelt,  Greenhills, 
and  Greendale  provide  the  first  American  demonstration  of  how  ade- 
quate communities  can  be  built."  34  A  colleague,  Tracy  B.  Augur,  be- 
lieved that  the  greenbelt  cities  marked  "the  birth  of  an  urban  nation," 
with  a  new  dependency  on  community  and  group  action.  He  con- 
cluded: 

They  mark  the  beginning  of  a  new  urban  era  in  the  United  States,  an  era 
in  which  the  emphasis  will  no  longer  be  on  more  and  bigger  cities,  but  on 
better  ones.  They  mark  the  beginning  of  an  era  in  which  the  establishment 
and  expansion  of  cities  will  become  recognized  as  the  people's  business,  to 
insure,  through  the  process  of  democratic  government,  an  urban  environ- 
ment worthy  of  the  American  ideal  of  life.35 

Greenbelt  was  the  only  one  of  the  three  towns  to  be  enlarged  while 
under  government  ownership,  though  they  all  had  facilities  for  at 
least  doubling  their  population.  Even  as  the  Resettlement  Administra- 

31  Mount  Rainier,  Maryland,  Prince  Georgian,  Dec.  25,  1936. 

33  Henry  Wallace  to  Sir  Raymond  Unwin,  May  28,  1937,  R.G.  16,  National 
Archives;  a  series  of  letters  from  the  Secretary  of  State  to  the  Secretary  of  Agricul- 
ture, 1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives. 

33  Henry  Churchill,  "America's  Town  Planning  Begins,"  New  Republic,  LXXXVII 
(1936),  97. 

34  Tracy  B.  Augur  and  Walter  H.  Blucher,  "The  Significance  of  the  Greenbelt 
Towns,"  Housing  Yearbook,  1938  (Chicago:  National  Association  of  Housing  Of- 
ficials, 1938),  p.  224. 

35  Ibid.,  pp.  218,  221. 


322  Tomorrow  a  'New  World 

tion  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration  completed  the  construc- 
tion of  Greenbelt,  they  leased  some  acreage  to  a  private  corporation 
which  completed  ten  inexpensive  prefabricated  houses  under  a 
limited-dividend  arrangement.  These  houses  shared  the  community 
facilities  and  utilities.  In  July,  1940,  the  Farm  Security  Administration 
announced  that  private  housing  could  be  erected  at  the  greenbelt  sites 
by  any  company  that  would  complete  as  many  as  200  homes,  that 
would  accept  a  ninety-nine-year  lease  on  the  land,  and  that  would 
permit  the  Farm  Security  Administration  to  pass  upon  house  plans. 
No  company  accepted  these  terms,  although  a  co-operative  group  was 
interested  at  Greenbelt.  Just  before  the  entrance  of  the  United  States 
into  World  War  II,  the  Federal  Works  Agency,  under  the  supervision 
of  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  added  1,000  defense  units  at 
Greenbelt  under  the  provisions  of  the  Lanham  Housing  Act.  These 
homes  were  constructed  on  217  acres  of  reserve  land,  utilized  existing 
community  facilities,  and  were  in  harmony  with,  even  if  somewhat 
inferior  to,  the  older  units.  In  proof  of  the  contention  that  all  later 
additions  would  profit  from  the  original  expenditures  for  community 
facilities,  these  homes  cost  less  than  $3,950  each.36  This  defense  hous- 
ing brought  in  a  new  type  of  tenant,  for  the  defense  workers  could 
not  be  carefully  selected,  were  older  on  the  average,  and  had  more 
children.  Older  residents  at  Greenbelt,  perhaps  naturally,  believed 
that  the  defense  housing  ruined  their  city.  Both  the  defense  needs 
and  the  wartime  inflation  made  meaningless  the  original  income  limi- 
tations on  Greenbelt  residents. 

With  the  virtual  completion  of  the  greenbelt  cities  in  June,  1938,  the 
Suburban  Resettlement  Division  was  abolished  in  the  Farm  Security 
Administration.  In  1942  the  three  greenbelt  cities  were  transferred  to 
the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority,  since  they  were  strictly  non- 
agricultural  housing  developments.  Until  1947  they  were  retained  by 
the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority  without  any  attempts  at  liquida- 
tion, since  they  represented  renting  property  and,  with  some  excep- 
tions, could  not  be  sold  separately  to  individuals.  In  1947  Congress 

36  Will  W.  Alexander,  "Housing  Activities  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration," 
Housing  Yearbook,  1938,  p.  38;  U.S.  Department  of  Labor,  Bureau  of  Labor 
Statistics,  "Private  Housing  in  Greenbelt  Towns,"  Monthly  Labor  Review,  LI 
(1940),  643;  C.  Benham  Baldwin,  "Farm  Security  Administration's  Sixth  Year 
in  Rural  Housing,"  Housing  Yearbook,  1941  (Chicago,  National  Association  of 
Housing  Officials,  1941),  p.  251. 


Greenbelt  Towns  323 

authorized  the  Public  Housing  Administration,  which  had  replaced 
the  Federal  Public  Housing  Authority,  to  spend  $39,500  for  land  sur- 
veys and  other  steps  looking  toward  the  sale  of  the  greenbelt  cities. 
Another  $40,000  was  authorized  in  1948.  These  grants  were  accom- 
panied by  an  authorization  for  the  Public  Housing  Administration  to 
insure  mortgages  on  the  projects,  with  a  maximum  interest  of  4  per 
cent  and  a  maturity  date  of  not  over  twenty-five  years.  With  the  com- 
pletion of  the  appraisals,  fourteen  acres  at  Greenbelt  were  sold  to 
five  churches  in  1948.  The  Public  Housing  Administration  found  that 
there  were  "numerous  unusual  problems"  involved  in  disposing  of 
whole  cities,  particularly  since  they  had  authority  only  for  selling  to 
the  highest  bidder.  In  addition,  the  tenants  believed  that  they  should 
have  a  special  opportunity  collectively  to  purchase  their  homes.  Be- 
yond this  there  was  the  desire  among  garden  city  advocates  to  retain 
community  ownership  of  the  town  and  the  encircling  greenbelt  in 
order  to  preserve  the  planning  objectives  of  the  Resettlement  Admin- 
istration.37 

In  1949  Representative  Mike  Monroney  of  Oklahoma  introduced 
into  the  House  of  Representatives  a  bill  which  was  intended  to  permit 
the  Public  Housing  Administration  to  sell  the  greenbelt  cities  by 
negotiated  sale,  at  an  appraised  value,  to  nonprofit  co-operatives, 
corporations,  or  other  organizations,  including  veterans'  groups.  In 
the  House  this  bill,  which  was  described  as  a  "fine  way  for  the  Govern- 
ment to  get  out  of  the  real-estate  business,"  was  amended  to  give  first 
choice  only  to  organized  veterans'  groups,  provided  the  present  tenants 
were  accepted  on  the  same  terms  as  the  veterans.  The  conditions  in 
the  bill  required  a  down  payment  of  10  per  cent  and  the  rest  at  4  per 
cent  interest  over  twenty-five  years.  The  bill  passed  the  House  by 
voice  vote.  In  the  Senate,  Senator  Paul  Douglas  of  Illinois,  who  wished 
to  preserve  the  publicly  owned  greenbelt  areas  around  the  three  cities, 
added  an  amendment  to  the  House  bill  which  permitted  the  Public 
Housing  Administration  to  transfer  public  facilities  to  appropriate 
nonfederal  governmental  agencies.  It  passed  the  Senate  as  amended 
and  became  Public  Law  65.38 

37  Warren  Farmer  to  M.  Kinzer,  June  16,  1938,  R.G.  96,  National  Archives;  U.S. 
Housing  and  Home  Finance  Agency,  Second  Annual  Report  for  Calendar  Year 
1948  (Washington,  1949),  pt.  rv,  p.  321,  and  Third  Annual  Report  for  Calendar 
Year  1949  (Washington,  1950),  pt.  rv,  pp.  346-347. 

^C.R.,  81st  Cong.,  1st  Sess.,  1949,  pp.  932,  4011,  4471,  4493,  5291,  5833-5834. 


324  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

With  these  new  instructions  from  Congress,  the  urban  section  of 
Greenhills  was  sold  on  December  6,  1949,  to  a  Greenhills  Home 
Owners  Corporation,  a  nonprofit  co-operative  group  composed  of 
veterans  and  tenants.  The  sale  price  was  $3,511,300,  including  not  only 
the  680  dwellings  but  also  600  acres  of  vacant  land.  Earlier  the  electric 
system  had  been  sold  for  $98,055,  and  1,125  acres  of  land  had  been 
sold  to  the  Department  of  the  Army  for  $213,665.  In  1950  all  sales 
negotiations  were  halted  because  of  the  Korean  War.  When  negotia- 
tions resumed  in  1952  at  Greenhills,  457  acres  were  sold  to  the  Cincin- 
nati Park  Service  for  $71,150,  and  the  rest  of  the  greenbelt,  3,378  acres, 
was  sold  to  the  Cincinnati  Development  Corporation  for  $1,200,000. 
The  total  sale  price  for  Greenhills  was  $5,094,170;  it  cost  $11,860,628.39 

No  organized  veterans'  group  qualified  for  the  purchase  of  Green- 
dale,  so  it  was  subdivided  (more  easily  done  because  of  the  large 
number  of  individual  houses)  and  offered  for  sale  to  the  tenants  in 
1951,  with  offers  being  received  on  97  per  cent  of  the  homes.  The 
village  was  sold  to  the  tenants  for  $4,666,825,  and  the  greenbelt  was 
purchased  by  the  Milwaukee  Community  Development  Corporation 
for  $825,000,  or  a  total  price  of  $5,491,825.  Greendale  cost  $10,638,- 
465.40 

Negotiations  for  the  sale  of  Greenbelt  to  a  veterans'  group  began  in 
1950.  On  December  30,  1952,  this  group  purchased  1,580  dwellings 
(including  the  defense  housing)  for  $6,285,450  and  708  acres  suitable 
for  residences  for  $670,219.  The  remaining  307  units  (the  apartment 
buildings)  were  sold  by  competitive  bids  in  1953  for  $914,342  to  six 
different  purchasers.  In  addition  to  these  major  sales,  the  fourteen 
acres  for  churches  sold  for  $14,800,  the  electric  system  for  $67,600, 
and  1,362  acres  of  the  greenbelt  was  transferred  to  the  Department  of 
the  Interior  without  reimbursement.  Three  parcels  of  land  totaling  818 
acres  were  sold  for  $576,912,  and,  in  1954,  the  shopping  center  was 
sold  for  $444,444  in  competitive  bidding.41  Greenbelt  thus  sold  for 

39  Letter  to  author  from  Casey  Ireland,  Special  Assistant  to  the  Commissioner, 
Public  Housing  Administration,  Nov.  28,  1956;  U.S.  Housing  and  Home  Finance 
Agency,  Third  Annual  Report  for  Calendar  Year  1949,  pt.  iv,  pp.  346-347,  and 
Sixth  Annual  Report  for  Calendar  Year  1952  (Washington,  1953),  pt.  rv,  pp.  430- 
431. 

40  Letter  to  author  from  Casey  Ireland,  Nov.  28,  1956. 

4*Ibid.;  U.S.  Housing  and  Home  Finance  Agency,  Seventh  Annual  Report  for 
Calendar  Year  1953  (Washington,  1954),  pt.  rv,  pp.  399-400. 


Greenbelt  Towns  325 

$8,973,767.  All  the  greenbelt  cities  liquidated  at  $19,559,762,  which, 
not  even  counting  the  cost  of  the  defense  housing  at  Greenbelt,  was 
only  approximately  53  per  cent  of  the  total  cost  of  $36,200,910. 

With  the  final  liquidation  of  the  greenbelt  cities  in  1954,  the  direct 
role  of  the  federal  government  in  community  building  was  ended.  Yet 
the  communities  still  survived,  for,  in  a  larger  sense,  the  government 
had  only  set  in  motion  a  self -perpetuating  process.  The  community 
building  would  continue  far  into  an  unpredictable  future,  for  the 
government  merely  withdrew  its  paternal  direction  from  its  very 
youthful  offspring,  leaving  each  fledgling  community  to  grow  toward 
adulthood  without  external  supervision.  Very  appropriate  are  the 
words  of  Vachel  Lindsay  in  his  "The  Building  of  Our  City*': 

Record  it  for  the  grandson  of  your  son — 
A  city  is  not  builded  in  a  day: 
Our  little  town  cannot  complete  her  soul 
Till  countless  generations  pass  away. 


In  Retrospect 


THE  many  attempted  reforms  of  the  New  Deal  period  were  not 
all  part  of  one  consistent  program.  The  term  "New  Deal/'  like  the 
label  "Progressive  Era/'  defies  analysis  in  terms  of  one,  dominant 
philosophy.  In  both  periods  there  were  many  reformers  and  many  re- 
form programs,  many  philosophers  and  many  diverse  philosophies  of 
reform.  No  one  doctrinaire,  thoroughgoing  pattern  for  reform  has  ever 
been  implemented  in  the  United  States,  a  country  which  never  has 
had  a  strong  socialist-labor,  or  any  other  one-class,  party.  Yet  the  term 
"New  Deal"  is  not  meaningless.  It  symbolizes  the  most  overwhelming 
sentiment  for  reform  (or  for  a  new  deal)  in  American  history.  The 
three  years  of  depression  from  1930  to  1933  did  more  to  arouse  a  wide- 
spread demand  for  effective  reform  than  the  many  years  of  less  intense 
distress  and  of  public  education  that  preceded  the  Progressive  Move- 
ment. But  the  depression,  although  leading  to  a  demand  for  action 
and  creating  an  atmosphere  favorable  to  even  drastic  reforms,  did  not 
in  itself  reveal  any  one,  widely  accepted  pattern  for  this  reform. 

Limited  by  certain  assumptions  and  attitudes — and  surprisingly 
traditional  and  conservative  ones  they  were — Franklin  D.  Roosevelt 
still  was  open  minded  and  impressible  almost  to  a  fault.  By  1932 
he  would  lend  a  sympathetic  ear  to  almost  any  well-sounding  pro- 
gram for  relief,  recovery,  or  reform.  As  a  result,  Washington,  in 
1933,  became  a  haven  for  literally  thousands  of  zealous  men  with 

326 


In  Retrospect  327 

widely  varied  ideas  for  saving  America,  for  conserving  the  best  of 
the  past,  for  creating  a  new  America,  for  thwarting  radicalism,  and  for 
implementing  radicalism.  Sooner  or  later  many  long-overdue  and  much- 
advocated  reforms  were  achieved,  such  as  more  favorable  legislation 
for  labor,  a  social  security  program,  and  more  controls  over  bank- 
ing and  investment.  Roosevelt  was  not  immune  to  experimenting  with 
appealing,  all  too  simple  panaceas,  such  as  government-induced  in- 
flation through  currency  manipulation,  and  was  not  too  dogmatic  to 
be  converted  to  a  "sound  money"  policy.  Closely  related  to  the  tre- 
mendous relief  program  were  the  many  public  works  programs  and 
new  ventures  into  such  fields  as  public  housing.  Action,  on  many  differ- 
ent fronts,  was  certainly  the  keynote  of  the  New  Deal. 

Compared  to  many  other  New  Deal  experiments,  the  community 
program  was  relatively  small  in  terms  of  final  accomplishments.  This 
fact  should  not  obscure  the  early  enthusiasm,  from  Roosevelt  on 
down  the  line,  that  greeted  the  early  community  program.  The  back- 
to-the-land  movement,  which  eventuated  in  the  first  subsistence  home- 
steads legislation,  was  a  very  romantic  and  appealing  panacea  in 
1933.  Its  appeal,  basically  conservative  or  even  reactionary,  won  the 
support  of  numerous  congressmen  who  were  opposed  to  many  of  the 
other  New  Deal  experiments.  The  community  idea  itself,  whether 
connected  with  subsistence  homesteads  or  resettlement,  was  flexible 
enough  to  appeal,  and  appeal  strongly,  to  people  with  very  diverse 
political  creeds,  from  the  most  reactionary  to  the  most  radical,  from 
Ralph  Borsodi  to  Rexford  G.  Tugwell.  In  the  abstract,  most  people 
favored  planned  communities  or  towns,  decentralization  of  industry, 
subsistence  gardens,  handicrafts,  and  even  co-operation.  The  com- 
munity program  was  not  to  flounder  and  die  because  of  any  deep- 
seated  repudiation  of  the  community  idea,  which  still  has  both  its 
romantic  and  rational  appeal  to  most  Americans.  The  program  suc- 
cumbed because  of  the  controversial  ideas  of  some  of  its  directors,  the 
unforseen  practical  difficulties  encountered  in  implementing  the  com- 
munity idea,  the  many  problems  that  inevitably  resulted  from  the 
unco-ordinated  and  hasty  accretion  of  activity  on  the  part  of  a  rather 
inflexible  federal  government,  an  organized  opposition  to  the  New 
Deal  itself,  and  a  declining  sentiment  for  reform  after  1936. 

With  the  enactment  of  the  subsistence  homesteads  legislation,  the 
community  idea  had  to  be  implemented  in  accordance  with  the  phi- 


328  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

losophy  of  one  or  only  a  few  policy  makers.  Many  diverse  philosophies 
can  contribute  to  the  legislative  enactment  of  an  abstract  idea;  many 
diverse  or  even  contradictory  philosophies  cannot  be  reflected  at 
the  same  time  in  the  concrete  implementation  of  an  idea,  at  least  not 
without  complete  confusion  and  near  inaction.  In  a  larger  sense  this 
was  a  dilemma  faced  not  only  by  the  community  program  but  by  many 
other  agencies  and  by  the  New  Deal  as  a  whole.  The  New  Deal  had 
an  overwhelming  mandate  for  action,  a  mandate  coming  from  all 
classes  and  all  interests.  But  action  leads  to  concrete  programs,  and 
in  the  presence  of  conflicting  interest  groups  and  varying  political 
philosophies,  no  major,  significant  program  can  long  win  overwhelm- 
ing support.  The  early  honeymoon  period  of  the  New  Deal  was  doomed 
to  a  quick  end  in  spite  of  the  severity  of  the  economic  depression. 
Back  at  the  level  of  the  community  program,  any  policies  set  up  in 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  were  sure  to  displease  some 
of  the  sponsors  of  the  legislation.  The  source  of  this  opposition  was 
to  be  determined  by  the  controlling  ideas  of  the  men  who  directed 
the  community-building  agencies.  The  severity  of  the  opposition  was 
to  be  determined  by  the  degree  that  these  directors  expressed  the  most 
popular  views  of  the  American  people. 

The  most  critical  decision  affecting  the  New  Deal  communities  was 
Roosevelt's  choice  of  Tugwell  to  head  the  newly  created  Resettle- 
ment Administration  in  1935.  The  communities  then  became  only  one 
element  in  an  ambitious  program  to  reshape  the  face  of  rural  and 
suburban  America.  They  also  were  soon  to  share  the  notoriety  of  the 
controversial  Tugwell.  As  a  director  of  the  community  program,  Tug- 
well's  collectivist  ideas  did  not  express  the  majority  sentiment  in  the 
United  States,  particularly  since  that  majority  sentiment  was  slowly 
shifting  toward  the  right.  To  say  that  Tugwell  was  unpopular  is  not 
to  pronounce  judgment.  More  than  almost  any  other  person  in  the 
New  Deal,  Tugwell  advocated  a  logical,  consistent,  and  thorough- 
going program  of  reform  that  touched  on  every  aspect  of  the  economy. 
As  few  other  men,  he  saw  through  the  superficial  gloss  of  the  many 
panaceas  of  the  New  Deal  period.  He  lacked  neither  personal  magnet- 
ism nor  an  incisively  logical,  and  not  always  academic,  appeal  to 
American  liberals.  His  famed  political  ineptitude,  if  such  existed, 
often  indicated  only  tenacious  honesty  and  high  personal  integrity. 
As  a  director  of  a  practical  program  he  did  compromise,  and  he  was 


In  Retrospect  329 

a  better,  more  conservative  administrator  than  his  opponents  would 
ever  concede.  Tugwell  soon  realized  that  all  his  sweeping  reforms 
could  not  be  achieved  during  the  New  Deal,  but  fatalistically,  pes- 
simistically, Tugwell  had  to  act  his  part  anyway,  striving  for  the  un- 
achievable. And  his  ideas  of  a  collective  society,  to  be  achieved 
slowly  and  not  without  hard  work  and  costly  sacrifices,  were  far  too 
radical  for  most  Americans.  He  and  his  successors,  who  shared  his 
philosophical  orientation,  set  the  community  program  on  a  pathway 
that  could  lead  only  to  disaster.  At  a  time  when  public  opinion  was 
becoming  more  conservative,  the  community  program  was  becoming 
more  daringly  experimental,  and  departing  farther  from  traditional 
institutions,  than  ever  before. 

The  community  idea,  so  appealing  in  the  abstract,  was  much  more 
difficult  to  achieve  in  actuality  than  almost  anyone  believed  possible 
in  1933.  The  raw  material  for  the  completed  communities  was  both 
physical  and  human,  and  the  latter  proved  very  unpredictable  and 
sometimes  intractable.  All  too  often  the  settlers  were  not  anxious  to 
participate  in  experimental  reforms  leading  to  a  new  America  which 
they  could  not  understand  or  appreciate.  They  simply  wanted  eco- 
nomic security.  Despite  some  few  precedents,  the  community  plan- 
ners of  the  New  Deal  were  largely  exploring  new  territory.  The  first 
communities  were  frankly  experimental.  The  planners  soon  faced  hun- 
dreds of  unexpected  problems.  The  methods  for  detailed  social  plan- 
ning were  unknown  or  else  not  available  in  a  free  society.  In  most 
cases  the  more  extensive  the  reforms  attempted  within  a  community, 
the  more  often  that  community  was  a  failure.  The  time  and  expense 
required  in  developing  successful  communities  proved  to  be  much 
above  earlier  expectations.  In  a  period  when  quick  results  were  de- 
manded, the  community  idea  soon  appeared  to  be  very  impractical. 

By  Roosevelt's  second  term,  an  anti-New  Deal  coalition  had  solid- 
ified in  Congress.  Conservative  Democrats  joined  with  Republicans  to 
police  relief  expenditures  and  to  oppose  any  new,  large-scale  reforms. 
By  1938  the  New  Deal  was  completed.  Roosevelt  himself  was  be- 
coming preoccupied  with  foreign  developments  and,  seeking  wide 
support,  was  accepting  more  conservative  advisers.  During  World  War 
II  conservative  forces  dominated  Congress,  whittling  away  at  such 
vulnerable  New  Deal  programs  as  the  Farm  Security  Administration. 
Just  when  the  conservative  opposition  solidified  in  1937  and  1938, 


330  Tomorrow  a  New  World 

the  New  Deal  communities  were  at  a  critical  period  of  development. 
Most  were  yet  uncompleted  or  had  just  been  completed.  The  difficult 
task  of  community  management  was  just  under  way.  The  actual  con- 
struction cost  of  individual  communities  was  just  being  appraised  by 
critical  congressmen.  The  most  radical  experiments  in  co-operative 
farming  and  in  long-term  leases  were  introduced  either  in  1937  or 
even  later.  For  the  conservative  opponents  of  the  New  Deal,  the 
unsuccessful  communities  offered  perfect  ammunition.  They  were  to 
be  exploited  for  propaganda  purposes  until  after  the  congressional 
investigation  of  the  Farm  Security  Administration  in  1943.  If  Tug- 
well  had  launched  his  Resettlement  Administration  program  in  1933, 
and  could  have  completed  it  by  1936,  he  probably  would  have  achieved 
many  of  his  goals  without  serious  congressional  opposition.  This  was 
not  possible  after  1936  in  a  period  when  the  whole  New  Deal  was  more 
and  more  on  the  defensive. 

The  tremendous,  frenzied  governmental  activity  of  the  early  New 
Deal  can  be  understood  only  in  relation  to  the  depression.  The  de- 
pression resulted  in  both  fear  and  anger  among  large  groups  of  people. 
For  a  brief  time  the  old  individualistic,  capitalistic  society  was  widely 
condemned.  The  caution,  complacency,  and  natural  conservation  of 
most  Americans  were  shattered,  and  millions  looked  to  the  federal 
government  for  a  new,  more  secure  society.  But  this  early  move- 
ment for  reform  rapidly  lost  momentum,  although  it  never  disappeared 
completely.  Whether  because  of  returning  prosperity  or  because  of  a 
regained  sense  of  security,  there  was  not  nearly  so  much  enthusiasm 
for  a  new  society  in  1937  as  there  had  been  in  1933.  By  the  time  of 
the  Farm  Security  Administration  investigation  in  1943,  any  challenge 
to  the  old  society  was  branded  as  treason,  or  at  least  heresy.  The 
renewed  popularity  of  the  older,  more  established  institutions  doomed 
the  experiments  being  carried  on  within  many  of  the  New  Deal  com- 
munities. Many  changes  had  been  wrought  by  the  New  Deal,  and 
many  were  to  remain.  But  the  day  for  launching  extensive  new  re- 
forms was  in  the  past.  The  New  Deal  produced  no  more  Tennessee 
Valley  Authorities,  despite  Roosevelt's  wishes.  Congress  had  decided 
that  there  should  be  no  more  new  communities  and  no  expansion  of 
the  ones  already  developed.  Furthermore,  the  existing  communities 
were  to  be  forced  back  into  the  traditional  patterns  of  complete  in- 


In  Retrospect  331 

dividual  ownership,  private  enterprise,  and  local  control.  This  all 
happened  after  1943. 

Despite  the  fact  that  the  New  Deal  communities  were  repudiated 
as  part  of  government  policy  and  that  government  controls  over  the 
communities  were  removed  before  most  of  the  social  experiments 
had  been  completed,  the  program  resulted  in  approximately  100  com- 
pleted communities  and  housing  for  approximately  10,000  families, 
about  one-half  of  which  were  rural.  The  construction  and  manage- 
ment of  the  communities  provided  direct  or  indirect  employment  for 
countless  thousands  of  workers.  For  each  dollar  expended,  the  com- 
munities represented  more  tangible,  enduring  achievements  than  most 
other  relief  expenditures. 

In  retrospect,  the  program  appears  to  have  been  most  valuable  in 
revealing  the  problems  of  detailed  social  planning  and  of  effecting  a 
rapid  transition  from  an  individualistic  to  a  more  collectivised  society. 
For  the  historian,  the  community  program  was  most  valuable  in 
providing  new  insight  about  American  reform  efforts  and  in  revealing 
or  suggesting  the  many  ideas,  ideals,  and  values  that  were  competing 
for  acceptance,  or  were  seemingly  at  stake,  in  the  New  Deal  period. 
From  a  more  tangible  viewpoint,  the  green  belt  cities  have  been 
widely  influential  in  the  city  planning  movement,  and  the  excellent 
physical  designs  and  the  present-day  prosperity  of  most  of  the  New 
Deal  communities  seem  to  have  redeemed  some  of  the  early  mistakes. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  the  long  political  controversy  that  swirled  around 
the  Resettlement  Administration  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration 
has  completely  colored  the  memory  of  the  New  Deal  communities, 
obscuring  most  of  their  virtues  and  magnifying  all  their  shortcomings. 


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Bibliographical  Note 


THE  National  Archives  are  the  one  indispensable  source  of  information 
about  the  New  Deal  communities.  Here  are  records  of  high-level  policy  de- 
cisions and  of  the  most  minute  details  concerning  local  projects.  Record 
Group  96,  Records  of  the  Farmers'  Home  Administration,  contains  literally 
hundreds  of  cubic  feet  of  official  records  on  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads,  the  Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administration,  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  and  the  Farm  Security  Administration.  No  adequate 
history  of  the  communities  could  be  written  without  these  all-important 
records.  Since  the  Resettlement  Administration  (soon  to  become  the  Farm 
Security  Administration)  was  absorbed  by  the  Department  of  Agriculture 
in  1937  and  since  Rexford  G.  Tugwell  was  Assistant  Secretary  of  Agricul- 
ture, Record  Group  16,  Records  of  the  Office  of  the  Secretary  of  Agriculture, 
contains  much  valuable  correspondence  relating  to  the  community  program. 
Record  Group  48,  Records  of  the  Office  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior, 
contains  a  few  cubic  feet  of  very  valuable  records  on  the  early  subsistence 
homesteads  program.  A  few  scattered  records  of  the  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration  communities  are  contained  in  Record  Group  69,  Rec- 
ords of  the  Work  Projects  Administration  and  Its  Predecessors;  and  Record 
Group  83,  Records  of  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics,  contains  the 
records  of  several  valuable  studies  conducted  on  various  aspects  of  the  com- 
munity program. 

Second  in  importance  only  to  the  National  Archives  are  the  many  public 
documents,  reports,  and  bulletins  relating  either  directly  or  indirectly  to  the 
New  Deal  communities  or  to  their  background.  Since  the  fate  of  the  com- 
munities was  ultimately  in  the  hands  of  Congress,  the  Congressional  Record 
provides  a  running  account  of  the  developing  congressional  displeasure 

338 


Bibliographical  Note  339 

with  the  communities.  Even  more  valuable  are  the  many  congressional  com- 
mittee hearings,  reports,  and  documents,  beginning  with  those  relating  to 
soldier  settlement  and  reclamation  (House  and  Senate  Committees  on  Irri- 
gation and  Reclamation,  Labor,  Public  Lands,  and  Agriculture)  and  cul- 
minating with  the  annual  hearings  and  reports  of  the  House  and  Senate 
Agricultural  Subcommittees  of  the  Committees  on  Appropriations  from 
1936  through  1949.  Two  congressional  documents  deserve  special  mention. 
The  first  is  the  result  of  the  monumental  investigation  of  the  Farm  Security 
Administration  in  1943-1944:  Select  Committee  of  the  House  Committee 
on  Agriculture,  Hearings  on  the  Farm  Security  Administration,  78th  Cong., 
1st  Sess.,  1943-1944.  These  hearings  provide  a  controversial  but  most  valu- 
able source  of  information  on  the  financial  records  of  the  individual  com- 
munities. The  second  document  is  Senate  Document  no.  213,  Resettlement 
Administration  Program,  74th  Cong.,  2d  Sess.,  1936,  which  represents  a 
statistical  analysis  of  the  resettlement  program  as  compiled  for  Congress  by 
the  Resettlement  Administration.  A  glorified,  dressed-up  view  of  the  com- 
munities is  contained  in  the  many  reports,  bulletins,  and  circulars  issued  by 
the  Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads,  the  Resettlement  Administration, 
and  the  Farm  Security  Administration  from  1934  through  1943.  The  final 
disposition  of  the  communities  is  recorded  in  the  annual  reports  of  the 
United  States  National  Housing  Agency  (1945-1947)  and  its  successor,  the 
United  States  Housing  and  Home  Finance  Agency  (1947-1953). 

The  New  Deal  communities  were  both  centers  of  controversy  and  objects 
of  curiosity  from  their  very  beginning.  Almost  the  same  thing  can  be  said 
of  the  back-to-the-land  movement,  the  garden  city  crusade,  and  Elwood 
Mead's  work  in  rural  resettlement.  In  each  of  these  cases  there  was  a  wealth 
of  contemporary  publicity  in  magazines  and  newspapers.  A  list  of  such 
articles  would  probably  fill  a  book.  Over  200  are  cited  in  the  footnotes  of 
this  study;  many  more  were  consulted.  The  articles  varied  in  size  and  in 
merit.  Some  were  pure  propaganda,  and  only  a  few  were  balanced.  One 
news  release  by  the  Resettlement  Administration  might  result  in  twenty 
different  articles,  all  recounting  the  same  basic  information  with  varying 
interpretations.  In  retrospect,  it  is  surprising  that  so  many  words  were  writ- 
ten and  so  little  revealed.  The  popular  articles  tended  to  concentrate  almost 
entirely  on  the  curious  and  the  ridiculous,  on  the  errors,  or  on  human  inter- 
est. The  following  four  bibliographies  provide  a  nearly  complete  list  of 
articles  related  to  the  early  community  program  and  its  background:  Louise 
O.  Bercaw  and  Annie  M.  Hannay,  Bibliography  on  Land  Utilization,  1918— 
1936  (United  States  Department  of  Agriculture,  Miscellaneous  Publication 
no.  284;  Washington,  1938);  Louise  O.  Bercaw,  Annie  M.  Hannay,  and 
Esther  M.  Colvin,  Bibliography  on  Land  Settlement,  with  Particular  Refer- 
ence to  Small  Holdings  and  Subsistence  Homesteads  (United  States  De- 


340  Bibliographical  Note 

partment  of  Agriculture,  Miscellaneous  Publication  no.  172;  Washington, 
1934);  Helen  E.  Heunefrund,  Part-Time  Farming  in  the  United  States 
(United  States  Department  of  Agriculture,  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Econom- 
ics, Agricultural  Economics  Bibliography  no.  77;  Washington,  1939);  Kath- 
erine  McNamara,  Bibliography  of  Planning,  1928-35  (Cambridge,  Mass., 
1936). 

There  are  no  published  studies  of  the  whole  New  Deal  community  pro- 
gram. The  most  valuable  book  to  appear  so  far  was  the  result  of  a  sociologi- 
cal research  project  on  the  part  of  the  Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics  and 
was  published  as:  Russell  Lord  and  Paul  H.  Johnstone,  eds.,  A  Place  on 
Earth:  A  Critical  Appraisal  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  (Washington,  1942). 
It  includes  an  introductory  background  by  the  editors  and  field  reports  on 
several  individual  subsistence  homesteads  communities.  Another  valuable 
study  was  limited  to  five  communities,  Paul  W.  Wager,  One  Foot  on  the 
Soil:  A  Study  of  Subsistence  Homesteads  in  Alabama  (University  of  Ala- 
bama, 1945).  An  intimate  view  of  the  early  years  at  Greenbelt  is  contained 
in  George  A.  Warner,  Greenbelt:  The  Cooperative  Community  (New  York, 
1954).  One  other  major  work  was  completed  very  early  and  also  was  limited 
in  scope,  Raymond  P.  Duggan,  A  Federal  Resettlement  Project — Granger 
Homesteads  (School  of  Social  Work,  Monograph  no.  1,  Catholic  University 
of  America;  Washington,  1937). 

The  community  program  generally  has  not  received  detailed  attention  in 
the  growing  number  of  works  related  to  the  New  Deal.  A  significant  excep- 
tion is  Arthur  M.  Schlesinger,  Jr.,  The  Age  of  Roosevelt,  vol.  II:  The  Com- 
ing of  the  New  Deal  (Boston,  1958),  which  includes  a  detailed  account  of 
the  work  of  the  Resettlement  Administration.  Russell  Lord,  in  The  Wallaces 
of  Iowa  (Boston,  1947),  provides  biographical  information  on  Rexford  G. 
Tugwell  and  Milburn  L.  Wilson  and  shows  the  relationship  of  the  com- 
munity program  to  the  over-all  agricultural  program.  Unfortunately  some 
of  the  minor  factual  details  in  this  well-written  but  rambling  study  are  in- 
accurate. The  struggle  over  the  Farm  Security  Administration  in  World 
War  II  is  recounted  by  Grant  McConnell  in  The  Decline  of  Agrarian  De- 
mocracy (Berkeley,  1953).  The  intellectual  background  of  the  New  Deal  is 
interpreted  by  Arthur  M.  Schlesinger,  Jr.,  in  The  Age  of  Roosevelt,  vol.  I: 
The  Crisis  of  the  Old  Order,  1919-1933,  (Boston,  1956).  Alfred  W.  Gris- 
wold,  in  his  Farming  and  Democracy  (New  Haven,  1952),  traces  the  life 
history  of  the  agrarian  myth  that  was  upheld  by  the  back-to-the-landers. 
Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  in  a  series  of  articles  and  in  his  The  Democratic  Roose- 
velt (Garden  City,  N.Y.,  1957),  has  proved  that  an  economist  can  write 
interesting  history.  His  insights  into  the  Roosevelt  personality  and  into  the 
development  of  the  New  Deal  program  are  among  the  best  that  have  yet 
appeared. 


Index 


Aberdeen  Gardens,  113,  162,  167,  173,      American  Federation  of  Labor,  101,  170, 


201-202,  217,  334 
Ackerman,  Frederick  L.,  69-70 
Adams,  Henry  C.,  74 
Adams,  Thomas,  64,  68,  70,  280 
Agar,  Herbert,  27 
Agger,  Eugene  E.,  155,  247 
Agrarianism,  11-12,  24-27,  44-45,  51-52, 

96-97,  257,  294-295 
Agricultural  Adjustment  Administration, 

80,  94,  96,  134,  143,  152,  154,  174 
Agricultural  price  supports,  78 
Agricultural  supervision,  189-191,  286- 

287,  291 
Agriculture,  Department  of,  7,  55,  57, 

75,  79,  84,  94,  122,  134,  142,  152, 

155,    160,    171,    181-184,    194,   281, 

310 

Agro-industrial  communities,  260 
Albert  Lea  Homesteads  (Minn.),  334 
Alexander,  Will  W.,  154,  172,  181,  223, 

295 

Alliance,  N.J.,  257 
Amana,  Iowa,  13,  210 
American  Country  Life  Association,  74 
American  Economic  Association,  74 
American  Farm  Bureau,  100,  123,  222- 

225 
American  Farm  Economic  Association, 

74 


225 
American   Friends   Service  Committee, 

35-36,  98,   114,   193-194,   197,  238, 

244-245,  248 

American  Liberty  League,  250-251 
American  Medical  Association,  198-199 
Arizona  Part-Time  Farms,  334 
Arthur,  Richard  M.,  238 
Arthurdale  ( W.  Va. ) ,  237-255, 108, 1 14- 

116,  118,  122,  124-125, 136,  142,  159, 

164-165, 173,  177, 191, 194, 197,  204, 

207-208,  216-217,  233,  259,  273,  277, 

296,  332 
Arts  and  crafts,  195-196,  35,  45,  108, 

159,  191,  193-194,  267,  302 
Ashwood  Plantation  (S.  Car.),  335 
Augur,  Tracy  B.,  321 
Austin  Homesteads  (Minn.),  112,  162, 

193,  217,  333 
Australia,  43-46 

Back-to-the-land  movement,  28-35,  12- 
24,  87,  93,  256-257,  259-260,  262, 
294,  296,  327 

Bailey,  Josiah  W.,  117 

Baker,  Jacob,  203 

Baker,  Oliver  E.,  74 

Baldwin,  Calvin  B.,  154,  224,  226,  228- 
229,  295 


341 


342 


Index 


Bankhead,  John  H.,  56,  87-88,  100,  111, 
180,  183 

Bankhead,  William  B.,  56,  87,  175,  183 

Bankhead  Farms  (Ala.),  Ill,  162,  207, 
217,  333 

Bankhead- Jones  Farm  Tenant  Act,  183- 
184,  220-221,  223-225,  227 

Banks,  Nathaniel  P.,  14 

Barbour,  W.  Warren,  178,  274 

Baruch,  Bernard,  245-246,  254 

Beauxart  Gardens  (Tex.),  Ill,  162,  215, 
333 

Bellamy,  Edward,  61 

Belloc,  Hilaire,  25 

Belmont,  August,  66 

Berle,  Adolf  A.,  Jr.,  181 

Bing,  Alexander,  69-70 

Biro-Bidjan,  Russia,  261 

Biscoe  Farms  (Ark.),  336 

Black,  John  D.,  32,  74,  78-80,  82,  87, 
100 

Black,  Loring  M.,  Jr.,  33 
Bland,  Schuyler  O.,  201 

Bliss,  William  D.  P.,  66 

Blitzer,  Max,  262-265 

Blucher,  Walter  H.,  321 

Borsodi,  Ralph,  26-27,  97,  99,  107-108, 

123,  201,  203,  294,  327 
Bosque  Farms  ( N.  Mex. ) ,  334 
Brand,  Charles  J.,  75 
Brown,  Benjamin,  261-269,  273-274 
Brownlow,  Louis,  100 
Brunner,  Felix,  175-178 
Buckingham,  James  Silk,  61 
Bureau  of  Agricultural  Economics,  75, 

78,  80,  98,  154-155,  157,  185 
Bureau  of  Biological  Survey,  134 
Burlington  Project  (N.  Dak.),  334 
Burnham,  Daniel,  61 
Butler,  Benjamin  F.,  15-16 
Byrd,  Harry  F.,  163-164,  177,  224,  275 

Cadbury,  George,  61 

Cahaba  (Ala.),  Ill,  162,  167,  202,  217, 

233,  333 
California  Commission  on  Colonization 

and  Rural  Credits,  46 
California  Land  Settlement  Board,  47, 

49 


Garden,  Philip  V.,  100 

Carver,  Thomas  Nixon,  20 

Casa  Grande  Farms  (Ariz.),  169,  210- 

211,  277,  336 

Castle  Hayne  (N.  Car.),  279 
Catholic  rural  movement,  14-15,  25;  see 
also  National  Catholic  Rural  Life  Con- 
ference 

Chapman,  Oscar  L.,  94,  143 
Chase,  Roy  P.,  223 
Chase,  Stuart,  69 
Cherry  Lake  Farms    (Fla.),  140,   137, 

192,  334 

Chicot  Farms  (Ark.),  335 
Christian-Trigg  Farms   (Ky.),  336 
Churchill,  Henry,  321 
City  planning:  in  Colonial  America,  60; 
in  the  19th  century,  61;  by  Ebenezer 
Howard,  62-66;  and  the  Garden  City 
Association  of  America,   66;   in  spa- 
cious American  cities,  67;  and  zoning, 
67;    in    World    War   I   housing,    68; 
growth  in  the  twenties,  68;  and  the 
New  York  Regional  Plan,  68-69;  by 
the    Regional    Planning    Association, 
69;  in  the  greenbelt  towns,  304-315, 
321,  330-331 
Civil  Works  Administration,  80,  98,  133, 

244-245 

Civilian  Conservation  Corps,  196 
Clapp,  Elsie,  246-248 
Clark,  John  Bates,  74 
Clover  Bend  Farms  (Ark.),  336 
Collective  farms,  169-170,  182,  210-211, 

220-222,  224-229 
Collectivism,    3-4,    150,    160,   210-211, 

222,  225,  329-333 
Committee  for  Soil  Surveys,  114 
Committee  on  the   Bases  of   a  Sound 

Land  Policy,  79 
Commons,  John  R.,  74,  77,  94 
Commonwealth  Club  of  California,  46 
Communitarian  colonies,  13 
Community  idea,  102,  127,  305,  327-329 
Community  management,  125,  156,  181, 
185,  189-190,  203-204,  212-213,  287- 
292 

Congress    of    Industrial    Organizations, 
225,  229 


Index 

Conservation  movement,  41 

Consular  Service,  157 

Consumer  Distribution  Corporation,  317 

Cook,  Nancy,  242-243,  249 

Cooley,  Harold  D.,  224-228 

Coolidge,  Calvin,  56,  68,  78 

Cooper,  Thomas,  94 

Co-operation,  202-211,  45,  50-52,  102- 
103,  128,  153,  158-159,  162-165,  168- 
170,  183,  189,  192-193,  197-198,  215, 
221,  238,  248,  251-253,  259,  261- 
262,  266-267,  270-271,  273,  276-277, 
287-290,  300-304,  317,  327,  330 

Co-operative  farm  colonies,  169-170, 
182,  210-211,  220-222,  224-229 

Council  of  Social  Agencies,  Morgan- 
town,  W.  Va.,  238-239 

Country  Life  Commission,  74 

Cox,  Edward  E.,  223 

Grosser,  Robert,  49-50 

Cumberland  Homesteads  (Tenn.),  108, 
115,  164-165,  207-208,  213,  217,  332 

Dailey,  Joseph  L.,  155 

Dalworthington  Gardens  (Tex.),  HI, 
162,  215,  333 

Davis,  Chester  C.,  76 

Dayton  Homesteads  (Ohio),  107-108, 
114,  121,  123,294,333 

Debt  adjustment,  153 

Decatur  Homesteads  (Ind.),  113,  115, 
162,  173,  216,  333 

Delano,  Frederic  A.,  65,  68,  71,  79 

Delhi,  Calif.,  47-48 

Delta  Co-operative  Farm  (Miss.),  210- 
211 

Desha  Farms  (Ark.),  336 

Dewey,  John,  4,  191,  247 

Dirksen,  Everett  M.,  230 

Distributists,  24-27,  294-296 

Division  of  Land  Economics,  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture,  75 

Division  of  Self-Help  Co-operation,  203 

Domestic  Allotment  Plan,  78-79,  81-82, 
84 

Dornbush,  Adrian  J.,  195-196 

Douglas,  Paul,  323 

Drummond  Project  (Wis.),  336 

Dubinsky,  David,  263-265 


343 

Duffy,  F.  Ryan,  199 

Duluth  Homesteads   (Wis.),  112,  162, 

217,  333 

Durham,  Calif.,  47-48 
Dyess    Colony    (Ark.),    137-138,    140, 

197,  233,  334 

Eddy,  Sherwood,  210 

Educational  programs,  192,  246-248, 
128,  142,  205,  286-287,  302 

Einstein,  Albert,  262-263 

El  Monte  Homesteads  (Calif.),  111-112, 
162,  216,  296,  333 

Ely,  Richard  T.,  73-77,  79-80,  84 

Emergency  Committee  for  Food  Pro- 
duction, 223 

Emergency  Fleet  Corporation,  67,  118 

Emergency  Relief  Act  of  1935,  142,  174 

Escambia  Farms  (Fla.),  336 

Ezekiel,  Mordecai,  75 

Fairbury  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  334 
Fairway  Farms  experiment,  76-77 
Fall  City  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  334 
Farm  City  Corporation  of  America,  280 
Farm  Credit  Administration,  134,  228, 

261 

Farm  Security  Administration,  220-230, 
7,  137-138,  140,  146,  154,  160,  168, 
171-172,  182,  185,  189-190,  197-199, 
202,  204,  207-214,  217-219,  231-232, 
253,  255,  269,  272,  275-276,  287-294, 
301-302,  314,  318,  329-331 
Farm  tenancy,  77,  180,  182-184,  221 
Farm  Tenancy,  Presidential  Committee 

on,  180,  182-185,  227 
Farmers'  Home  Administration,  230,  293 
Farmers'   Home  Corporation,    184-185, 

227,  230 

Federal  Arts  Project,  196 
Federal  Emergency  Relief  Administra- 
tion, 131-145,  7,  80,   154-155,   157, 
161,  169-170,  197,  201,  203,  218 
Federal  Farm  Board,  78-79 
Federal  Land  Bank,  114,  141,  297 
Federal   Public   Housing   Authority,    7, 
218,  227-228,  231-232,  255,  273,  276, 
303,  322-323 


344 


Index 


Federal  Subsistence  Homesteads  Cor- 
poration, 106,  119,  123-124,  281 

Federal  Surplus  Relief  Corporation,  134 

Federal  Theatre  and  Music  Division, 
196 

Federal  Works  Agency,  322 

Filene,  Edward,  317 

Flanders,  Ralph  E.,  100-101 

Flannigan,  John  W.,  Jr.,  226 

Flint  River  Farms  (Ga.),  336 

Ford,  Henry,  23-24,  27,  29 

Foreman,  Clark,  101 

Forest  Service,  110 

Foster,  Philip  W.,  280 

Fourier,  Charles,  13 

Fritts,  Frank,  281 

Fulmer,  Hampton  P.,  129 


Galpin,  Charles  J.,  74 

Garden    City    Association    (England), 

63-64 
Garden    City   Association    of   America, 

65-66 
Garden  city  planning,  61-75,  154,  159- 

160,  280,  305-311 
Gee's    Bend    Community    (Ala.),    188, 

230,  336 

General  Accounting  Office,  118 
George,  Henry,  61,  126 
Geraldson,  Gerald,  158 
Goldstein,  Philip,  273,  276 
Gorman,  John  J.,  302 
Gould,  Elgin  R.  L.,  66 
Grand  Island  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  334 
Granger  Homesteads  (Iowa),  294-304, 

113,  162,  217,  333 
Gray,  Lewis  C.,  74-75,  80,  154 
Greeley,  Horace,  14 
Green,  Robert  A.,  33 
Green,  William,  101,  170 
Greenbelt,  Md.,  310-312,  166,  176,  196, 

308-309,  313-325,  336 
Greenbelt  towns,  305-325,  60,  69,  71, 

156,  160-161,  166-167,  173-174,  188, 

217-218,  221-233,  331 
Greenbrook,    N.J.,    173-175,    178-179, 

275,  308,  310,  319 
Greendale,  Wis.,  314-315,  166,  308,  310, 

316-321,  324,  336 


Greenhills,    Ohio,    312-314,    166,    308, 

310,  317-321,  324,  336 
Greenwood    Homesteads    (Ala.),    Ill, 

162,  217,  333 
Grimes,  Bushrod,  239 

Hacker,  Louis  M.,  124 

Hall,  Bolton,  18 

Hancock,  Frank,  229 

Handicraft  program,   193-194,  35,  45, 

108,  159,  191,  302,  327 
Harding,  Warren  G.,  20,  54,  75,  78 
Harriman,  Henry  L,  82,  93,  100 
Harris,  Hayden  B.,  100 
Hattiesburg  Homesteads   (Miss.),   Ill, 

162,  216-217,  231,  333 
Hayden,  Eustace,  77 

Hebrew  Emigrant  Aid  Society,  257 

Heilprin,  Michael,  257 

Hendrickson,  Roy,  98-99 

Hibbard,  Benjamin  H.,  74 

Hightstown,  N.J.,  see  Jersey  Homesteads 

Hildebrandt,  Fred  H.,  179 

Hillman,  Sidney,  229 

Hinds  Farms  (Miss.),  336 

Hirsch,  Baron  Maurice  de,  258-259 

Hofflin,  Elizabeth,  195 

Home    supervision,    189-190,    285-286, 

291 
Homestead  associations,  215-218,   162- 

163,  209,  231,  254,  276,  302-303 
Hoover,  Herbert,  35,  67,  78-79 
Hopkins,  Harry,  133,  137,  142-143,  161 
Hormel,  George  A.,  112 

Housing   and   Home   Finance   Agency, 

232 
Housing  experiments,  170-172,  241-242, 

248,  265 
Houston  Gardens  (Tex.),  Ill,  115,  162, 

173,  215,  333 
Howard,  Ebenezer,  61-65,  68,  71,  159, 

305,  312 

Howe,  Frederic,  52,  157 
Howe,  Louis  M.,  105,  122,  237,  240-243, 

246,  250 
Hyde,  Arthur  M.,  32,  79 

Ickes,  Harold  L.,  80,  93-94,  97,  100, 
106,  115-116,  119-122,  124-126,  142- 
143,  239-243,  245,  282 


Index 


345 


Ickes,  Mrs.  Harold  L.,  245 

Indians,  200-201 

Individualism,    1-2,  6,   160,   225,  295- 

296,  330 
Industrial    decentralization,   23-24,    62, 

80,  82,  84,  99, 105,  136, 159, 168,  240, 

251,  256,  259,  295,  327 
Industrial-type  subsistence  homesteads, 

110-113,  128,  131,  162-163,  184,  216, 

277,  296 
Institute   of   Land   and   Public   Utility 

Economics,  75-76 
Interior,  Department  of  the,  49-52,  55, 

57,  80,  98,  200,  324 
International  Federation  for  Town  and 

Country  Planning  and  Garden  Cities, 

64-65,  68,  281 

International  Ladies'  Garment  Work- 
ers' Union,  263 

Iowa  State  College,  297-299,  301 
Ireland,  John,  14-15 
Ironwood    Homesteads    (Mich.),    167, 

217,  336 
Irwinville  (Ga.),  335 

Jacobstein,  Meyer,  101 

James,  Edmund  J.,  74 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  12,  40,  60,  295 

Jeffersonianism,  1-6,  12,  25-27,  295 

Jersey  Homesteads  (N.J.),  256-276, 109, 
121,  145,  162,  171,  173,  178,  210, 
217,  233,  277,  296,  309,  332 

Jewish  Agricultural  Society,  257,  259- 
261 

Jewish  colonization,  256-262,  109 

Jewish  Colonization  Society,  258 

Johnson,  Alvin,  124 

Johnson,  Hiram  W.,  46 

Johnson,  Hugh,  6,  78 

Jones,  Marvin,  183 

Julian,  William  A.,  100 

Kearney  Homesteads  (Neb.),  335 
Kelley,  Fred  J.,  247 
Kinsey  Flats  (Mont),  336 
Kohn,  Robert  D.,  69,  93 

Labor,  Department  of,  49-50 
La  Cognina,  Henry,  195 
La  Follette,  Mary,  195-196 


La  Follette,  Robert,  179,  195 

La  Forge  Farms  (Mo.),  336 

LaGuardia,  Fiorello  H.,  33 

Lake  County  Homesteads  (111.),  112, 
162,  173,  217,  333 

Lake  Dick  (Ark.),  169,  210-211,  277, 
336 

Lakeview  Farms  (Ark.),  336 

Land-leasing  associations,  220-221,  225 

Land  Policy  Section,  Agricultural  Ad- 
justment Administration,  134,  143- 
144,  154 

Land-purchasing  associations,  220-221, 
225 

Land  retirement,  78-83,  133-134,  142, 
153,  182 

Land  settlement:  in  Colonial  America, 
40,  60;  in  the  19th  century,  40-41; 
on  reclamation  projects,  42,  54-55; 
in  Australia,  43;  as  conceived  by  El- 
wood  Mead,  44-45;  in  the  California 
colonies,  46-48;  as  advocated  by  the 
Department  of  Labor,  49;  and  soldier 
settlement  proposals,  50-54;  and 
Southern  reclamation  colonies,  56; 
in  the  Lake  States,  75;  and  Fairway 
Farms,  76-77;  as  a  problem  for  farm 
economists,  78;  and  New  Deal  studies, 
79-80,  158 

Land  tenure,  45-49,  77-78,  126-128, 
158-160,  168-170,  182,  215-216,  218, 
222,  225-228,  279,  286,  289-290,  302, 
330 

Land-use  planning,  77-83,  86,  99,  133- 
134,  143,  153,  155-156,  161,  182-184, 
306 

Land  Utilization  Conference  of  1931, 
79-80 

Lane,  Franklin  K.,  20,  50,  51-53 

Lansill,  John  S.,  155,  308 

Laura  Spelman  Rockefeller  Foundation, 
76 

Letchworth,  England,  63-65,  310,  321 

Lever,  William  H.,  61 

Lewis,  John  L.,  170 

Liberalism,  1-3 

Ligutti,  Luigi,  25,  113,  294,  296-303 

Little  Landers,  19-20 

Longview  Homesteads  (Wash.),  112, 
115,  162-163,  216,  296,  333 


346 


Index 


Lonoke  Farms  (Ark.),  336 
Loup  City  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  335 
Ludlow,  Louis,  116-117,  201 
Lumsden,  Edith  R.,  32,  87 
Lund,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Haviland  H.,  20-21, 
32 

McCarl,  John  R.,  119-120,  128-129,  173 

McComb  Homesteads  (Miss.),  Ill,  162, 
217,  333 

Macfadden,  Bernarr,  31-32,  34,  87,  94, 
99,  114 

Mackaye,  Benton,  69 

McKellar,  Kenneth  D.,  117,  224 

McLean,  Edward  B.,  309 

McLennan  Farms  (Tex.),  337 

McNary,  Charles  L.,  31 

McNary-Haugen  bills,  78 
MacRae,  Hugh,  277-284,  32,  94,  99, 109, 
123,  289,  294 

MacRae  colonies,  277-280 

Magnolia  Homesteads  (Miss.),  Ill,  162, 

216-217,  231,  333 
Marland,  Ernest  W.,  118 
Marshall,  Alfred,  61 
Matanuska,  Alaska,  137,  177 
Maverick,  Maury,  179 
Mead,  Elwood,   42-58,  80-81,   87,  94, 

279-280 
Medicine  and  health  services,  196-199, 

128,  205,  248,  266,  318 
Melvin,  Bruce,  94,  98,  129,  200 
Migratory  workers,  140,  153,  222,  224 
Mileston  Farms  (Miss.),  337 
Mitchell,  George  S.,  229 
Mitchell,  Morris  R.,  192 
Mondell,  Frank  W.,  53 
Monroney,  Mike,  323 
Morgan,  Arthur  E.,  93 
Morgenthau,  Henry,  Jr.,  82,  261 
Morgenthau,  Mrs.  Henry,  Jr.,  249 
Mormon  villages,  13-14,  81,  100 
Moser,  Guy  L.,  223 
Mounds  Farms  ( La. ) ,  337 
Mount  Olive  Homesteads   (Ala.),   Ill, 

162,  171,  217,  333 

Mountaineer    Craftsmen's    Co-operative 
Association,   193-194,  244,  251,  253 
Mumford,  Lewis,  68-69 


National  Advisory  and  Legislative  Com- 
mittee on  Land  Use,  80 

National  Advisory  Committee  on  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads,   100-101,   123 

National   Catholic   Rural   Life  Confer- 
ence, 25,  294-296,  302 

National  Catholic  Welfare  Council,  225 

National  Council  of  Churches,  225 

National  Farmers'  Union,  222,  225 

National  Forward  to  the  Land  League, 
20-21 

National  Grange,  53,  100 

National  Housing  Agency,  218 

National   Industrial  Recovery  Act,   88, 
93,  129 

National  Land  Use  Planning  Committee, 
80 

National  Park  Service,  134,  217 

National  Planning  Board,  80 

National  Recovery  Administration,  83, 
174,  263 

National  Resources  Board,  142 

National  Resources  Committee,  66,  72, 
80 

Negroes,  199-202,  101,  104,  113,  141, 
154,  167,  270 

Nolen,  John,  61,  67,  94,  114,  280-281, 
285 

Norris,  Tenn.,  113 

Norton,  Charles  D.,  71 

Office  of  Indian  Affairs,  134 
Olmsted,  Frederick  Law,  60-61 
O'Neal,  Edward  A.,  100,  123,  224 
Orangeburg  Farms  (S.  Car.),  337 
Osage  Farms  (Mo.),  337 
Owen,  Robert,  13-14,  61 

Palmerdale    Homesteads     (Ala.),    Ill, 

162,  217,  333 
Parker,  Barry,  64 
Part-time  farming,  80-82,  98,  105,  159, 

256,  260,  296 

Patten,  Simon,  73-74,  84-85,  148 
Peek,  George  N.,  78 
Pembroke  Farms  (N.  Car.),  337 
Penderlea  Homesteads  (N.  Car.),  277- 

293,   109,   114,   121,   123,   192,   199, 

207-208,  213,  230,  296,  332 


Index 

Phoenix  Homesteads  (Ariz.),  Ill,  115, 

162,  216,  334 
Pickett,   Clarence  E.,   35-36,   98,    105, 

108,  114,  193,  238-239,  248-249 
Piedmont  Homesteads  (Ga.),  109,  123, 

332 

Pinchot,  Gifford,  280 
Pine  Mountain  Valley  (Ga.),  138-140, 

137,  192 
Planning,  as  a  concept,  37-39,  59-60, 

96,  121,  153 

Plum  Bayou  (Ark.),  337 
Political  Action  Committee  of  the  CIO, 

229 

Post  Office  Department,  116 
Pragmatism,  4 
Prairie  Farms  (Ala.),  337 
Pressman,  Lee,  155 
Progressive  Movement,  326 
Provisional  Commission  for  Jewish  Farm 

Settlements  in  the  United  States,  262 
Public  housing,  67,  105,  115,  170-172, 

303,  306,  311 
Public  Housing  Administration,  7,  232- 

233,  276,  323 

Public  land  policies,  40-42 
Public   Works  Administration,   80,   93, 

116,  119-120,  175,  307 
Purdom,  Charles  B.,  69 
Pynchon,  Charles  E.,  124-125,  282 


Radburn,  N.J.,  70,  76,  175,  242,  280, 
305,  310-311,  313-314,  319 

Randolph,  Jennings,  118,  245 

Reclamation,  41-43,  54-57 

Red  House  (W.  Va.),  136-137,  141, 
166,  204,  207,  334 

Reed,  Daniel,  117 

Regional  Plan  of  New  York  City,  68 

Regional  Planning  Association,  68-69, 
72,  93 

Religion,  199 

Relocation  corporations,  221 

Resettlement  Administration,  152-185, 
7,  80,  109-113,  125,  127-128,  130, 
134,  136,  140-146,  187-192,  194,  196- 
209,  214-215,  218-221,  224,  229,  245, 
248,  251-252,  256,  259-260,  263-275, 


347 

284-289,  305,  307,  310-314,  316,  321, 
323,  328,  330-331 

Retirement  homesteads,  141 

Rich,  Robert  F.,  182 

Richardson,  Charles  L.,  30 

Richton  Homesteads  (Miss.),  110,  333 

Roanoke  Farms  (N.  Car.),  141,  201, 
335 

Robinson,  Charles  M.,  61 

Roosevelt,  Franklin  D.:  and  Jeffersonian 
ideas,  5;  on  agrarianism,  34,  83,  260; 
and  Rexford  G.  Tugwell,  35,  148,  161, 
180-181,  215,  328;  on  planning,  37, 
70-71,  83;  on  public  land  policy,  41; 
on  industrial  decentralization,  82-84; 
and  advocacy  of  rural-industrial 
towns,  83;  and  support  of  land-use 
planning,  83,  133;  and  New  Deal 
agricultural  planning,  83-84;  and  the 
Division  of  Subsistence  Homesteads, 
99,  103,  115,  119;  and  the  Resettle- 
ment Administration,  129,  142-144; 
and  Pine  Mountain  Valley,  138-139; 
and  the  Farm  Security  Administra- 
tion, 225-226;  and  Arthurdale,  237, 
240,  243,  255;  and  Penderlea  Home- 
steads, 282;  and  the  greenbelt  towns, 
307-308,  320-321;  and  experimenta- 
tion, 327,  330 

Roosevelt,  Mrs.  Franklin  D.,  36,  99,  103- 
105,  108,  114-115,  122,  193,  200, 
237-249,  251,  253,  255 

Roosevelt,  N.J.,  276 

Ropesville  Farms  (Tex.),  335 

Rosenwald  Foundation,  198 

Roseworth  Colony,  22 

Rural  colonies:  and  socialist  inspiration, 
13;  and  religious  inspiration,  13-14; 
at  Greeley,  Colo.,  14;  and  the  Catholic 
Church,  14-15;  as  proposed  by  con- 
gressmen, 15-16;  as  initiated  by  the 
Salvation  Army,  17-18;  and  the  Little 
Landers  Movement,  19-20;  as  pro- 
posed by  the  National  Forward  to 
the  Land  League,  20-21;  at  Rose- 
worth,  22;  at  Sunrise,  Mich.,  30;  at 
Durham  and  Delhi,  Calif.,  46-47; 
established  by  the  Division  of  Sub- 
sistence Homesteads,  109-110;  estab- 


348 


Index 


Rural  colonies  ( cont . ) 

lished  by  the  Federal  Emergency 
Relief  Administration,  136-141;  es- 
tablished by  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, 167-170;  established  by 
Jewish  immigrants,  256-260;  estab- 
lished by  Hugh  MacRae  in  North 
Carolina,  277-280 

Rural-industrial  communities,  132,  135- 
137 

Rural  rehabilitation,  133,  135,  143,  153, 
155,  157,  159-160,  168,  178-179,  182- 
184,  197-198,  220-221,  225,  227, 
256,  260 

Rural  Rehabilitation,  Division  of,  133- 
136,  142,  144 

Rural  rehabilitation  corporations,  134- 
135,  141,  144,  154,  161,  264,  270 

Rural  resettlement,  141,  153,  155-156, 
159,  161,  167-170,  182,  218 

Ruskin,  John,  61 

Russell,  George  (or  A.  E.),  81 

Russell,  William,  247 

Ryan,  John  A.,  101 


Sabine  Farms  (Tex.),  337 

Saginaw  Valley  Farms  (Mich.),  337 

St.  Francis  River  Farms  (Ark.),  335 

St.  Helena,  N.  Car.,  278 

Sale  of  communities,  214-220,  162-163, 

220,  223,  228-233,  255,  275-276,  292- 

293,  303,  322-325 
Salt,  Titus,  61 
Salvation  Army,  17-18,  30 
Salvation  Army  colonies,  17-18 
Sam  Houston  Farms  (Tex.),  337 
San  Fernando  Homesteads  (Calif.),  Ill, 

162,  216,  334 
Schafer,  John  C.,  34 
Schall,  Thomas  D.,  118 
Schmiedeler,  Edgar,  32 
Schnurr,  Mae  A.,  32 
School  garden  movement,  17 
Schurz,  Carl,  41 
Scott,  William  D.,  22 
Scottsbluff  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  335 
Scrugham,  James  G.,  87-88 
Scuppernong  Farms  (N.  Car.),  210,  335 


Settler  selection,  186-188,  45-46,  55, 
115,  126,  141,  215,  244,  279,  285- 
286,  297,  299,  316 

Shenandoah  Homesteads  (Va.),  113, 
163-164,  333 

Sheppard,  Morris,  67 

Sioux  Falls  Farmsteads  (S.  Dak.),  335 

Skyline  Farms  (Ala.),  207-208,  335 

Smith,  Alfred  E.,  69 

Smith,  Joseph,  14 

Smith,  Russell,  223 

Smythe,  William  E.,  19-20,  22 

Social  planning,  186,  193,  211,  256, 
272-273,  300,  317,  329-330 

Soil  Conservation  Service,  152 

Soldier  settlement,  21,  50-54 

Soule,  George,  101 

South  Sioux  City  Farmsteads  (Neb.), 
335 

Southard,  Keith,  159 

Southern  agrarians,  25-26 

Southern  reclamation  movement,  56 

Spillman,  William  J.,  75,  78-79 

Stafford,  William  H.,  33 

Stein,  Clarence  S.,  69-70,  305,  306,  319 

Stranded  communities,  108-109,  131, 
136,  164-166,  188,  203,  205,  239,  251 

Sublimity  Farms  ( Ky. ) ,  336 

Subsistence  homesteads,  86-130,  11, 
18,  26,  32-34,  45,  80,  82,  131,  140, 
142,  144,  156,  159,  161-162,  164, 
167,  186,  203,  214-218,  231-232, 
238-239,  246,  250,  256,  260,  262, 
272,  280-282,  294,  296,  300,  319,  327 

Subsistence  Homesteads,  Division  of, 
98-130,  7,  13,  26,  80,  135-136,  141- 
145,  154,  156-157,  161,  163-164,  167, 
169,  172-173,  187, 191, 194, 197,  200- 
203,  216-217,  237,  239-240,  243,  244- 
246,  248-251,  256,  262-264,  277,  280- 
284,  289,  296,  297-299,  328 

Suburban  resettlement,  155-157,  167, 
218,  305-309,  322 

Sunrise  Co-operative  Community,  30, 
261 

Swope,  Gerard,  251 

Taber,  Louis  J.,  100 
Tarver,  Malcolm  C.,  224 


Index 

Taussig,  Charles  A.,  181 

Taylor,  Carl  C.,  98,  122,  155,  281,  297 

Taylor,  Henry  C.,  74-76 

Taylor,  John,  12 

Tenant-purchase  programs,  77,  180, 
183-184,  225,  227 

Tennessee  Valley  Authority,  93,  113, 
167,  179,  305,  321,  330 

Terrebonne  Plantation  (La.),  169-170, 
210,  336 

Three  Rivers  Gardens  (Tex.),  Ill,  162, 
215,  231,  334 

Tiverton  Farms  (S.  Car.),  337 

Tolley,  Howard,  75 

Torrance,  Jared  S.,  66 

Townes  Farms  (Ark.),  337 

Transylvania  Farms  (La.),  337 

Trumann  Farms  (Ark.),  337 

Tufts,  James  H.,  77 

Tugwell,  Rexford  G.:  and  collectivism, 
6,  202;  and  Franklin  D.  Roosevelt, 
34-35,  143-144;  on  agricultural  plan- 
ning, 73-74,  84-86;  on  national  eco- 
nomic planning,  86;  and  the  sub- 
sistence homesteads  communities,  94, 
100,  163-166,  295;  and  the  origins  of 
the  Resettlement  Administration,  142- 
144;  character  and  economic  theory, 
146-152,  164-165,  295,  328-329;  and 
the  policies  of  the  Resettlement  Ad- 
ministration, 153-160,  194,  215,  229, 
330;  and  other  New  Deal  agencies, 
160-161;  and  resettlement  commu- 
nities, 166-171,  174-176;  on  housing 
methods,  170-171;  and  resignation 
from  the  Resettlement  Administra- 
tion, 171,  180-181;  and  unpopular- 
ity, 175-176,  180;  and  congressional 
friends,  179;  and  farm  tenancy,  180, 
182;  on  co-operation,  202,  204,  300- 
301;  and  class  feelings,  221;  and  the 
Farm  Security  Administration,  225, 
228,  230;  and  Jersey  Homesteads, 
263,  265,  268;  and  the  greenbelt 
towns,  305-307,  319-320 

Tupelo  Homesteads  (Miss.),  Ill,  162, 
216-217,  334 

Twentieth  Century  Fund,  198 

Two  Rivers  Farmsteads  (Neb.),  335 


349 

Tygart  Valley  Homesteads  (W.  Va.), 
108,  114-115,  136,  164-165,  206-208, 
212,  231,  332 

United  Mine  Workers,  170 

United  States  Employment  Service,  170 

United  States  Extension   Service,   105, 

134,  160,  228,  259 

United  States  Housing  Corporation,  67 
United  States  Public  Health  Service,  197 
Unwin,  Raymond,  64,  68,  70,  280,  321 

Vacant-lot  gardens,  17,  29 
Valiant,  Margaret,  196 
Vandenberg,  Arthur,  117 
Veblen,  Thorstein,  74,  148 

Wads  worth,  James  W.,  53 

Wakefield,  Edward  G.,  61 

Walker,  John  O.,  319 

Wallace,  Henry  A.,  76,  82,  84,  94,  142, 
152,  180,  182,  185,  196 

Wallace,  Henry  C.,  57-58,  75,  78,  82 

Waring,  Bernard  G.,  101 

Warren,  George  F.,  77,  83 

Weltner,  Philip,  101 

Welwyn,  England,  64-66 

West  Virginia  University,  238-239,  242, 
244,  247 

Westbrook,  Lawrence,  132-133,  135- 
137,  142 

Wester,  Otto,  195 

Westmoreland  Homesteads  (Pa.),  108, 
145,  164-165,  205-208,  213,  232,  332 

Whitaker,  Charles  H.,  69 

Wichita  Gardens  (Tex.),  Ill,  162,  215, 
334 

Wichita  Valley  Farms  (Tex.),  335 

Williams,  David,  132-133,  135-136,  138 

Williams,  Ralph  C.,  198-199 

Wilson,  Milburn  L.:  and  the  Mormon 
colonies,  13;  on  agricultural  planning, 
73,  121;  biographical  data,  76-77;  and 
Fairway  Farms,  76-77;  on  the  do- 
mestic allotment  system,  79,  81,  82; 
on  land  utilization,  80-81,  83;  on 
agrarianism,  81,  295;  and  ideas  on 
subsistence  homesteads,  81-82;  and 
New  Deal  agricultural  policy,  82-84, 


350 


Index 


Wilson,  Milburn  L.   (cont.) 

86;  philosophical  outlook,  94-97;  and 
policies  of  the  Division  of  Subsistence 
Homesteads,  97-105,  109,  112,  114, 
127-128,  135,  193;  and  end  of  work 
in  the  Division  of  Subsistence  Home- 
steads, 110,  115,  120,  122,  124-125; 
and  ideas  on  decentralized  adminis- 
tration, 119-121;  on  co-operation, 
202-203;  as  Undersecretary  of  Agri- 
culture, 207;  and  Arthurdale,  245; 
and  trip  to  Russia,  261;  and  Jersey 
Homesteads,  262-263,  267;  and  green- 
belt  towns,  319 

Wilson,  William  B.,  49 


Wilson,  Woodrow,  50-51 

Wise,  Stephen  S.,  262,  274 

Wolf  Creek  (Ga.),  335 

Woodbine,  N.J.,  258-259 

Woodlake  (Tex.),  132,  135,  141,  166, 

218,  335 

Woodruff,  Roy  O.,  177 
Work,  Hubert,  55 
Workers'  Aim  Association,  265,  268 
Works  Progress  Administration,  7,  137- 

139,  144,  160-161,  170,  173,  196,  265 
Wright,  Hendrick  B.,  15 
Wright,  Henry,  69-71,  175,  305,  310 

Zeuch,  William  E.,  197,  203 


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